


Intricate Desires

by Craseelix1190



Category: Cullen Rutherford - Fandom, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom, Lavellan - Fandom, OC - Fandom
Genre: Addiction, Death, Deception, Dragon Age Inquisition, Dragon Age Story, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fighting, Gaming, Gaming Stories, Heartbreak, Intrigue, Jealousy, M/M, Murder, Nightmares, Plot, Plot Twists, Romance, Skyhold, Story Arc, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craseelix1190/pseuds/Craseelix1190
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breanna Lavellan didn't consider herself a noble, at least not anymore. She was just a Dalish mage, stranded by her family because of her gift, or curse, she would argue. Just a girl in a new world full of demons, bad guys and good guys, caught up in love. She's shy and energetic, but wouldn't think twice about sacrificing her life for yours. Follow Brea throughout trial and tribulation, grow to love her and sometimes hate her, follow her love and heartbreak and understand the makings of how Inquisitor Breanna Lavellan and Commander Cullen Rutherford came to be inseparable in a story you will not likely forget!<br/>Cullen Rutherford/OC Lavellan, Dorian/Sera pranks, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus romance snip bits here and there (for the sake of plot).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grain of Salt

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my beautiful people!
> 
> So this is my first Fan piece here, but I'll be positing plenty of chapters here and I will try to update this story as much as possible. It will probably be lengthy and go in depth. It's based off of Dragon Age Inquisition, mostly, which I unfortunately do not own, nor do I own any of the characters in or associated with the game. Only Breanna! (And possible characters still to come, most of my chapters are in progress). And I don't even own her last name! Ah!  
> As I go further into the story the plot will unfold more (duh, captain obvious), but the romance level will also sky rocket, so whenever I put special marks here, it means the chapter will most likely contain smut (in later chapters)! If you don't like that kind of stuff visit my non-smut included chapters on FanFiction. (Link can be found in my bio).  
> Other than that, voila, and enjoy!

A Grain of Salt

I never knew dreams could hit as hard as an enemy, a sword swung with force and precision beyond a 'normal' person's comprehension. Normal, because most didn't have enemies swinging battle-axes at them, and also because most don't have dreams that shake them from sleep and haunt their days. Most don't, but I suppose I'm not like most. My entire life I'd been told I was different, and once upon a time I'd take it in stride, or as Bull would say, with a grain of salt as he downed a rough drink. Now? Things were different, people were different. I was a million miles between my home, a billion paces from my thoughts and a galaxy away from my heart. My mind and heart had begun playing games with me ever since Haven, since the Winter Palace, since Adamant. My memories often flashed across my eyes as I saw my men, my soldiers being flung from the barracks, their bodies laying limply around me in a pile of blood and bones. No one body recognizable, all morphing and forming to one enormous nightmare that had begun to tear at me day in and day out. It was also usual for me to remember my companions we'd lost at Haven, the souls I couldn't save. Andraste's Hand or not, I was no savior. I was no hero. I'd still fight anyone who'd tell me I was.

Sure, self-preservation kicked in about a thousand of those times, and a thousand times I turned down the blade, a thousand times I backed away from the edge of the barracks. A thousand times I stopped myself from giving up because the people around me needed the inquisition, needed me. What would they do if I died? Sure, I was a symbol of some imaginary thought, but that symbol had driven me—had driven us—this far. That thought made me stop every time. Often I compared myself to Ser Ruth, the Warden. A good person tumbled into hard times and hate, twisted unrecognizably to fit an order forced onto them. Forced to make the tough decisions, only difference is your sentence depending on your rank, and that's what I despised the most. Had Ser Ruth been in my position, would my advisors, would my own people tear me off the throne as desperately as they were willing to decapitate the Warden? A shiver ran down my spine at the thought, my fingers played absently with the auburn locks of my hair, bringing the strands so they wouldn't hang in the middle of my back. My fingertip played with the edge of my tattoo, the raised skin outlining swirls that captured my eye, swirling down to the tip of my nose, spattered in red ink.

I never called myself beautiful, and in these times, the days I thought about how I looked fell few and far between never. Vivienne constantly reminded me to keep up appearances, but I would simply roll my eyes at her nature, her Circle influencing her brain, her Orlesian heart beating in time with the gowns around her. That was if she had a heart. Some days I wondered.

My advisors usually found me sitting in Dorian's chair, reading some book he had handed over with a wink. Some days it was poetry, other days it was history, but most often it was fantasy tales of lands that were perfect, but always had a conflict that arose with some hero or heroine who saved the day, saved the country and kissed her new knight in shining armor at the end. I knew it was foolish to read such stories, ones that teenagers read with no bearings of the world, but a part of me needed it to breathe. A part of me wanted to be that heroine, and Dorian knew how desperate I was to have it.

Dorian understood me more that I cared to admit, often finishing my sentences, casting knowing looks from the corner of his eyes at me, a look I would often share. He'd stay in my room sometimes, and we'd just sit by my fireplace, laughing about our tales, crying about our misfortunes, our pasts. I'd tell him of my dreams and my nightmares, and he'd do the same. He was more of a friend and a confidant than I'd ever had, one I never imagined I would find in a war raging between right and wrong. Some could say he literally fell out of the blue, given how we found him at Haven during Corypheus's attack and all.

I bit my lip, the memory of Corypheus sparking fear and anger in my heart. I no longer knew what I was afraid of, but the list of anger grew with each passing moment Corypheus lived. And that hate grew within the pit of my stomach for the same time. My lip curled into a snarl, each and every single day I fought to reclaim the land lost to his darkness, fighting in the name of an ancient, imaginary and fabled god, and each day I put my sword in my sheathe and unsheathed it for the same reason; to slay Corypheus. To lay his plans to waste. The anger practically took on physical means, my lip still positioned in anger.

"Inquisitor?" I turned, sharply aware now that I had been snarling at a bookshelf, my legs crossed over each other, my brows drawn in deep thought and my hand resting on my knee. I paused realizing how lost in thought I'd truly been. Cullen stood at the alcove of the shelves, forearm resting against books on language and culture. His posture was tired but confident, something only he could pull off at the same time. A smirk was spread over his lips, the white of his scar turned up in amusement.

"Am I interrupting something?" He took a few hesitant steps forward before fingering the leather spiral of an old tome that laid on the table next to my leg.

"No I was reading before, now...I was just lost in thought." I smiled at him, a little more happily than I meant. My days with the commander were enough to fit on my fingers and toes in total, but we always managed to pick up on each others feelings.

"Narratio de Claris a Heros. The Tale of a Lost Hero, an intriguing read. Have you finished it?" I practically laughed at the question, reading in Dorian's nook was my semblance of thought, the way I coped with the war, the way my body recovered and my mind and heart became lost in the pages of each story.

"I've read all the books here in the pile. Dorian supplies me daily." The look of shock and awe that passed momentarily over his features was well worth the admission. Usually people wondered why I was so reclusive, why I didn't spend my time gawking over men and following every new fashion from Val Royeux. A part of me wondered the same; at least then I'd be able to be irresponsible and run around doing whatever I wanted, not quite different from Sera. A part of me also knew why; I liked being relied on. It made me exist even when I didn't want to.

"That's impressive. I never took you for being one who knew Tevinter." I smiled and tilted my head to look up at him, his golden eyes shimmering with a quizzical appearance.

"I never took you for one who would read a Tevinter tall tale," I quipped back, eyes alight with confrontation. It felt like the same look when looking at easy prey. His scar was raised again, his row of white teeth showing. It was one of the very rare times I'd ever seen him smile, or show happiness for that matter. Most days he was Commander Cullen of the Inquisition's Soldiers, unhappy and stoic. His face either deadpan, concentrative or angry. Like my beauty, it was rarity, but it made my chest burn with a tingly fire that I didn't feel often. His rage usually sparked rage in myself and his thoughts usually connected with mine, and it made my mind turn with questions. We were nothing alike, and we were supposed to have nothing in common, nothing to share. At least not for an elven mage and a templar, but I had to remind myself he was no longer a templar, yet the thought that old habits die hard still hung over my thoughts like a cloud.

The first time I met him, he feared me, his eyes wide with the unknown and the answers he'd been fed in Kirkwall. The second time we'd spoken, he couldn't stop staring at my ears, the pointed tips jutting off the side of my head. At first I didn't quite like him, his aura too templar and his eyes too judgmental, until I realized he was more man than templar, more human than judgmental. We had talked about our differences, after I went to Redcliffe, the advisors riding with me. He had told me stories of his time as a templar during our ride to the West to meet the Templars, and we had learned to understand who we are, who we were and who we wanted to be, at least, as much as we could between riding and galloping to our quest.

We looked into each other's eyes for several moments, intently gazing without pause. I blinked and Cullen rubbed the back of his neck with his palm, his cheeks blushing crimson. He blew out a harsh breath, his eyes looking anywhere now, except at my own.

"Is there a reason you came so far just to see me, other then my impeccable looks and excellent company?" His eyes snapped back to mine, as if an explosion had gone off.

"I–Uh...You are...Yes, indeed there was. We have a lead on Calpernia, and we need to follow it. A noble in Val Royeux is holding a masquerade ball, and has requested in return for information, that you attend. As...As a Lavellan, a noble by name." I snorted, in the most unladylike manner, my hands jumping to my mouth to hold back the laughter that seemed to gush from my mouth. Cullen smirked, again. Sure I was a noble Levallan, an oddity all in itself, but I barely regarded myself as so outside of...Well...Anywhere.

"The last time I went to one of those things, I almost got killed, more than enough times than I'd like in one night. Can we find the information any other way? Maybe hold him hostage? Bribe him? Torture him? Anything?" My hands held onto each other closely, my thumbs rubbing the places between my fingers in a soothing manner. He had danced with me, at the ball in the Winter Palace. He had bowed to me, his similar smirk curling at the tip of his lip. We had danced under the moon, forgetting the war, forgetting Celene and the plot against her, forgetting everything but the feel of each other, the movement. Despite how much he had told me he was a bad dancer, he had led me graciously against the balcony, his hand at the small of my back, burning through the dress Vivienne's seamstress had made. The recollection of him pressing a kiss to my hair as I leaned my head against his shoulder burned in my mind hotter than any pressing iron, and I longed to feel him kiss me again, on my lips, my cheeks, my forehead; everywhere. Dorian knew how I felt, and the memory made my heart beat faster and the blood course hotter through my veins.

"I'm afraid not. We'll have to attend. The other advisors will be there along with me and your selected party." I tried to hide the blush that crawled from my neck to my ears and cheeks, I tried to concentrate on anything but his body and his armor and his handsome face, but all of it was impossible.

"W-When is it?" I managed to stutter out.

"Two days from now, Vivienne and her contact are already working on something for you to wear." I lifted myself out of the seat, but it was no use. My clumsy nature and my weak legs gave out under me, probably because I had been sitting for too long, and before I hit the ground Cullen's arms were around me, and he was everywhere. His cold armor was pressed to my chest, both of his hands holding my arms constrictively, his leg bent between both of mine. I gasped and Cullen's golden eyes widened in surprise.

"Well, this is new." A slightly amused voice piped in, and I recognized Dorian's presence immediately. Mechanically, Cullen straightened me and let go, his hand resuming its position at the back of his neck while I tried to catch my breath–which failed miserably.

"Dorian. Hi." My voice was hoarse, and I cleared it, taking in a deep breath and exhaling, my eyes darting to Cullen's, who hadn't stopped staring at me.

"Cullen, thank you for catching me. And telling me about the plans. Not much choice, eh?" I tried to make light of the situation, but Dorian only quirked a brow and Cullen just sighed, nodding his head.

"Inquisitor." He began to leave, his footsteps light and quick.

"Brea." I stated to his back, annoyance lacing my voice. I hated that god forsaken title.

"Brea." His voice was deep; seductive and sultry all at once as he turned to face me, and I could tell from his aura that he enjoyed the words on his tongue, and I could definitely agree. Hearing my name on his lips gave me more pleasure than I'd admit to anyone, even Dorian. Especially Dorian. Oh I was going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was pretty deep towards the end. Wonder how those hot flashes are gonna turn out? They kind've only get hotter, but in a totally good way! Check out the next chapter which will have some getting ready for the party and some expertise from the one and only Dorian Pavus. Thanks for reading, please comment! It's greatly appreciated, any form and context, whether you wanna yell at me, tell me it's awful or how much you love it. It means a lot and it helps my writing!  
> Until next time!  
> —Seeli


	2. The Escort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for the ball is coming, and the meddling of the dubious love lives of the Inquisitor and the Commander are commencing, and it includes the Inquisition and it's people. The ball is a big event, and preparing for it is not as easy as it seems. Brea hates getting dressed up, but getting dressed up for someone seems to make it a little easier. And of course, who doesn't love getting dolled up with Sera and Vivienne de Fer? Comment, Kudos, all of it pleaseee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is chapter two! *makes rapid swooshing hand movements to show off chapter*

"So, the Commander, found unceremoniously catching you in clumsiness but ending in a hot fit of passion. That should give Varric enough inspiration to write another chapter in Swords and Shields for Cassandra." I gave Dorian a look that spoke a thousand words, none of them good, most of them only men were allowed to say, at least by noble standards. As much as Josephine would yell that I was a noble, I didn't stand by the same standards. Not until I absolutely had to, and when flogging wasn't a possible last resort.

"Oh  _come on_. Tell me all the juicy details, did you trip intentionally?" I blew out a deep breath and laid my forehead against a bookshelf.

"Yes, because I can do that. I trip over myself when I'm barefoot, let alone those heels Josephine tried to put me in. You should know me better than that." Dorian nodded, jumping into the chair and throwing his legs over the arm of the old wood. His eyes glinted, the type of green that most women died for, but I knew that look all too well; he wasn't letting this topic go.

"You're going to make me beg for information, aren't you? Okay, fine. I, Dorian Pavus, beg you Breanna Lavellan to tell me everything that just happened that I missed." His voice was condescending and his legs kicked out in sync, making him look like a school boy.

"Nothing happened, he came to tell me something, we spoke about books...Stared at each other a while," I said really quickly to get it out. "Then he told me about a ball a noble wants us to go to and then I fell and then ta da." The mage puffed a breath and raised his eyebrow at me, the look of _really_  coming through his gaze.

"How long were you staring at each other?" He smiled broadly, his white teeth gleaming in triumph. I sighed and looked at him from the corner of my eyes.

"A few minutes. Dorian...I don't know what to do anymore, it's driving me insane." Dorian chuckled, his fingers pulling at his mustache, a move he often made when he was thinking about something.

"Are you sure it's not just a crush? I mean, I could stare at a few nobles for  _days_ without  _end._  What makes our dear Commander so different?"

"Do you truly have to ask that? Tell me you don't feel it. That pull. I can sense auras and I see it, but don't tell me you're so dull that you can't feel that...That tug of energy. Maker, it burns me like a fire." Dorian raises both his eyebrows this time, a double shock affect.

"Sweetheart, if you say anything else, I may just have to think you're in love with the poor bastard." I sigh and run my hands through my red hair, my feet pacing me around the room, my thoughts running and jumping. His smile, his laugh, the way he lays a blanket over the sick or helps the elderly up the stairs, how he looks at me through all of the recruits, yet never loses focus. That small curl of his lips that made his scar stand out, but made him seem utterly adorable and made me insatiable. The way his hand automatically falls to the small of my back, or just the small brushes of his touch as he walks by. I sighed, a shiver running back up through my spine, shaking me to the core.

"You're serious, aren't you? Oh no, my little flower is blooming." I give him a mean look.

"Okay, to the joke. We are going to get Cullen to take your petal." I blushed crimson, heat rushing into my veins. The thought of what he meant making my body flush.

"I think I have to be a virgin for that to happen, Dorian. And I swear if you start calling me anything that has to do with flowers I will have you hung from the rafters." Dorian pushed himself out of the chair and twirled me around in his hand, only pausing to look me in the eyes.

"You'd never do that because you love me too much. That and I'm going to get you laid in about two days. You're welcome."

—»— —»—

I gave Vivienne a dark look, my eyes suddenly clamped shut as she pulled the laces of my corset tight, my back arching so that the pain would ease but it didn't. It. Fucking. Didn't.

"Why...Are...You making me wear this?" I wheezed out, my eyes going cloudy and darkening around the edges for a moment. Sera popped up behind me, a braid from my hair in her hand, her eyes bright and shiny.

"'Cuz, we're trying to get Cullen-Wullen all goo-goo gaa-gaa for you." I sighed and breathed in a sharp breath as Vivienne tied another piece of the corset.

The gown was a dark shade of red, the silk beautiful and dark, practically the shade of my hair. Lace wove around the corset, black and silver, but it was no normal corset. The fabric was tight around my chest, cupping my breasts and holding them tight, but deviated as it reached the swell. It was cut to show my tan skin underneath, most of my abdomen showing, except for a strip of black silk lace cascading over the center of my chest down to the gown. The lace reached over the v-cut of the corset to wrap my around my throat in a choker. In that a tear shaped cut, so a pearl could hang straight above my throat and into the hollow of my neck. Pearls outlined the back as well, serving as pseudo buttons to make people believe that was how it stayed put, but the red straps gave away the corsets true nature.

Sera had done my hair, one braid cutting across the front of my scalp to the back of my head, joining with another braid done relatively the same way on the other side. From there she made an elaborate Orlesian braid, one that involved many, many strips of hair, which she ultimately tied in a messy bun that she pinned to the top of my head.

"It. Is. Ah-Mah-Zing. I mean, I am pretty proud of myself, but I gotta give ya some credit Vivienne. That dress is to die for. I mean, if you were into girls I'd be–"

"Alright, Sera, darling. I think we understand. If I must say so myself, you look quite ravishing my dear." I stood in front of a mirror, eyeing myself in the gown. I twirled, the skirt swirling around my body and brushing against my legs. My ears pointed out, but beautiful pearl earrings adorned them, making them look more normal. More Orlesian. I loved it.

"It's fantastic, I...Do you think Cullen will like it?" Sera's eyes practically bounced out of her head.

"Like it? He'll swallow his tongue if he's smart, darling. He will adore you all night long if I have anything to do with it." Vivienne smiled.

—»— —»—

I walked out of my room, closing the door and walking down the stairs. I'd be lucky if I didn't kill myself by the end of the night in these damn shoes. The black, tall heels with red accents were amazing, but they would be the death of me. Perhaps Cullen would carry me home at the end of the night. I don't know how this night turned into some way for me to seduce Cullen, but somehow everyone was more than happy to help. Dorian was helping Cullen get dressed, against his will probably, and I couldn't wait to see what resulted in that assault. I small piece of me wondered if Dorian was forced to use magic to restrain Cullen from killing him first.

I opened the door to the Great Hall and was met with a large applause. All of the people of Skyhold stood in the Hall, wine glasses in their hands. In the front of of the crowd stood my party, adorned in black and red dresses and Orlesian officer regalia. And there, in the middle, stood the Commander, his outfit similar to the others, however his had to be tighter. His biceps bulged through the black fabric, obviously straining. The red sash over his side adorned his different badges, but the only thing I could focus on was his eyes. They were bright, almost too bright, his hands practically clutched at the wine glass in his hands, seconds away from shattering it into little silver specks. He was focused on me, eyes roaming over my body, a slow, deep and obvious flush working over his skin. He pulled on the side of his collar, straining away from it as if it was too tight.

I couldn't take my eyes off of him, and he couldn't seem to do so either. I began walking towards the tall man, my legs unsteady, my feet already killing me. "Cullen," I smiled, my eyes dancing over his pained face. Something coiled deep and low in the pit of my stomach, and I swear I could feel heat grow between my thighs.

"Inqu–Brea. You look...Absolutely stunning. I–We–Do you want to go to the carriage now?" He stutters in awe, his eyes trying to keep on my own like the gentleman he is, but I can see them glance down to my chest and gown, eyeing my curves with hunger that's evident on his features.

"Sweet Andraste." Cullen mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I think that would be a good idea. Would you escort me?" I tilted my head up at his, my eyes matching the hunger within his, but unlike him, my lips broadened in a deep and sensual smile.

" _Me?_  I mean, yes. O-Of course." He held out the crook of his arm and I wrap my arm around his, my fingers twining through his hand, loosening the tight fist his fingers had balled into.

He walked me to the carriage, a silver cart with ornate elven markings and an ivory base tone. Gently he lets me step into the small interior and my hands clutched tightly onto my gown before I trip and make a fool of myself in front of everyone. He followed me into the carriage, sitting opposite of me, his hands clasping each other in his lap. My gaze reached his, a smile creeping silently onto my face.

"You're blushing." The fact that I pointed it out made him flush an even deeper color and I laughed.

"Commander you only helped me into the carriage, I can't imagine what's making you blush, but I find it adorable." He nervously laughed and palmed the back of his neck in nervousness.

"I'm not one for dancing." I raised an eyebrow at him, my disbelief evident.

"If I remember correctly you danced fine at the Winter Palace." Cullen smiled, as if remembering, but the smile slowly turned into a scowl.

"I was far too nervous to concentrate on the dance..." Did he just admit?

"Are you saying you were more focused on me than the dance? Josephine may have to kill you for that." He gave me his award winning smirk and we were on our way to the Chateau du Leon.


	3. Fine Red Lace, Black Hearts and Wicked Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come. Breanna Lavellan is attending the ball as High Noble of the Clan Lavellan and Inquisitor of the Inquisition, but not everything is as it seems. The Game played by the Orlesians can only involve hate, gossip and jealousy, the most prominent factors, at least. Tonight Brea is playing, except she has more than one objective for the night other than the Comte and his information; Cullen. Yet, as always, plans go awry and things seem to spiral far from control.

Fine Red Lace, Black Hearts and Wicked Games

 

The Chateau was beautiful, lit with candles hidden in silver ornaments that made a dim pink glow cast over the shadows left from the dark night. Each individual orb of light guided visitors to the main steps of the large castle, flowing white ribbon adorning each and every tree. Wind blew around, making what the visitors wore flap around and follow the seamless air. The castle was huge, by Skyhold standards. There were four pillars in total, with one large dome in the center and a villa that spread and filled the expanse of space leading up to the building. Of course, this was the part where I had to get out of the carriage and ride a horse to the gates, which made me uneasy.

Cullen took my hand in his, allowing me to lean on him as I tried to gain my footing in my heels and step out of the carriage. Josephine arranged for the horse to be parlayed in the noble barn, and Cullen walked me to the black stallion at the gates of the Chateau. He laid his hand on the small of my back, making me shiver under his touch.

"Are you cold?" He asked, and without my response took off his coat and laid it across my shoulders. I wasn't about to object, especially when I knew that if I told him that I didn't shiver from the wind, he would know that I was influenced by him.

"Thank you," I murmured, my fingers grazing his shoulder in appreciation. The bear hide was warm, but I was already hot underneath it, my breathing quickening. Cullen bended down at the knee, putting one hand neatly over the other.

"What are you doing?" My voice sounded like a squeak, my surprise hitting me like the wind. The skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled, big and bright. I practically fainted there on the spot, in front of him, in front of everyone.

"Helping the beautiful lady onto her horse." I blinked at him, dumfounded like a fool. I didn't want to step into his hands. He wasn't a servant, nor was he mine. I couldn't have him touch my sides, lifting me onto the horse, tight grasp too familiar and soft and warm and everything I couldn't ask for. I knew I would melt at his touch and I wouldn't be able to go through with the rest of the night, at least not with my mind and definitely my body in one piece. I noticed Dorian giving me a harsh look from his horse, his eyes daring me not to take Cullen's proposition.

"I..You don't need to do that, you know." I stuttered, my words catching in my throat, and I groaned. This was not working out according to plan, although it technically was, by Dorian's terms.

"I know. You also don't need to do everything yourself." He gave me a solemn look. "You can let someone else handle things sometimes." I almost told him that wasn't true, but this wasn't the place to fight about what I was balancing on my shoulders and what I wasn't. Here we were, him kneeling at my feet and me probably looking like a blubbering idiot. A harsh sigh escaped my chest, teetering on the edge of exasperation, and I pressed the pad of my foot into his palm, so that he could boost me onto the saddle. For a moment half of my body was leaning against his own, his muscles flexing underneath the fingers that held onto him for balance. I hooked my leg over the other side of the horse and blew out a breath. His thumb and fingers kneaded at my hip, the rough pad of his index finger accidentally brushing the skin that was exposed by the dress. I choked back a gasp. God I was sexually frustrated as hell.

"I...I'll see you at the Chateau, Commander." I nodded at him and he clasped his right hand over his chest, where I knew his heart was, the beat steady and rhythmic. Dorian smiled like a chantry boy at me and I actively ignored him as I began to gallop at a brisk pace towards the Chateau. This was going to be an interesting night.

The ride to the entrance was pleasant, and I got a good look at the nobles from Orlais and Ferelden. There were many women and not enough husbands nor male nobles, which I found strange. At the front, there were many maids, butlers and servants, and most were offering wine right away. I slowly climbed off of the stallion, who neighed under my palm as I petted him, seeking comfort for the rest of the night.

"Good boy," I murmured, watching as one of the stable maids took him away.

I took one of the small flutes in between my fingers, pressing the cool glass to my lips and sipped the sweet wine. I waited and watched as my party slowly arrived, first Leliana, followed my Josephine and then Cullen. Not far behind came Cassandra, Sera and Dorian, all with annoyance etched on their faces. Dorian strode confidently towards me, his hand reaching out and pulling me close against his side, pace fast and he took me through the doors.

"After you left one of the harlots began flirting with Cullen, the man had the nerve to smile and help her on her horse too. Even I'm jealous–you two looked promising." I rolled my eyes and looked up at the Vint, his eyes gleaming with a mix of exuberance and fire that probably came from the bottle of Orlesian wine he'd downed in single swig before we had left.

"However he hasn't taken his eyes off you one second. I do believe my rose has bloomed. Don't ruffle your petals too fast, okay? I saw you back there, your eyes looked like the size of poker chips." I gave him my signature death stare, and he released me, hands coming defensively to his sides, palms facing me.

"Make good choices and don't rush it. Make him beg." I exhaled harshly and turned away from him, my eyes scanning the interior of the palace. It was huge, stairs winding from both the left and right side of the walls, and at the top a small terrace. At the break stood Comte Victoré Leon, duke of Southern Orlais.

"Dorian, love, I think you're forgetting she's here for one matter, the Comte and his information. Not the Commander and his obvious fondness for the sweet dear." Vivienne stepped up behind us, a small smile revealing her glimmering teeth. She wore a floor length black gown with ruby earrings and a matching amulet adorning her neck, putting good work to the space left by the deep V cut made by the silk, and her sides showed off the skin down to her hip. I was in awe at how she always pulled off something amazing. I turned around and hugged the Circle Mage, my eyes lifting up.

"Vivienne! What are you doing here?" She tsked me and grabbed Dorian's arm, giving him her signature smile of charm.

"I couldn't be the High Enchantress of Orlais without an escort my dear. One note of information though, the Comte likes to make his dealings with women both professional and pleasurable. You could probably work him to your advantage, but don't wind strings too tight, alright darling?" I brushed my hand over her shoulder, giving her a sign of my support. She could fool a crowd of magicians and make noblemen bow at her feet simultaneously, and it never stopped shocking me.

I spent about two thirds of the night avoiding the Count and mingling with the nobles, playing The Game all too well. Being a part of a rare elven noble family meant that I was a spectacle and properly equipped to handle negotiations, despite common belief which stated otherwise. It was things like the Winter Palace that sent me on edge, when lives–when people were involved. Often The Game felt like it involved lives, but usually it was just rumors and squabbles to gossip over, heightening your own status within the empire. Sometimes I felt like a player in a game of chess; each knight a spy, each pawn a soldier, the king and queen, the bishops which represented mages, and then the rooks, the lowest ranking, the elves. If you were I, an Elven mage, you were considered valuable, but an object nonetheless.

I sighed and took a sip of wine from my seventh glass, my head swooshing slightly and my body warm. Cullen and I had been glancing at each other all night, our eyes meeting, sparks shooting through my body as I flushed crimson and looked away. Other times when I looked at him he was surrounded by noble women clambering to get into his pants, all of them wearing fake smiles with huge eyes filled with tons of make up. I, on the other hand, prided myself in hating make up. Vivienne practically shrieked at me when I denied her putting me up like a doll. I could practically imagine it, her hands flittering over my face as she smoothed out my scars, heightened my eyelashes, glittered my eyes. I cringed at the thought. The only thing I wore was a deep shade of red lipstick, and even that was a statement for me.

I looked around, searching for faces that I found familiar, most of them getting lost in the crowd. Vivienne clung tightly to Dorian's arm, dragging him through the nobles. He threw a pained looked my way and I giggled, saluting him. Cassandra was being hit on by one of the officers of the court, leaning in over her body like a vulture over dying prey. She smiled up at him, obviously entranced by whatever he was saying. Sera was by the dining table, a drink in each hand, staring at the behind of one of the servant girls. I shook my head at her demeanor and searched for Cullen, my eyes scanning the room until I felt the brush of a warm, calloused hand against my side.

"Would you have this dance with me, my lady?" Cullen's deep, raspy voice drifted behind me like sugar-coated honey, dousing me and making me breathe in sharply. His lips were right behind my ear and I could feel his deep exhale against my skin. One hand took my own while the other stayed firmly planted on my hip, turning me around and securing me in his arms.

"Of course." He moved me onto the dance floor where we parted and he bowed to me as I curtsied to him, our eyes never parting. He seemed like a caged lion, his eyes bright and dangerous, his posture rigid as if he was on edge. Our palms met in front of us as we moved around, switching partners before coming together again, where he pressed my body firmly against his own.

"You've been watching me," he murmured silently, his gaze scanning the crowd aimlessly.

"And you haven't taken your eyes off me." I smiled, confident, as he pushed me out and pulled me back into his embrace. I pressed my backside against his front, my head falling back and leaning against the curve of his shoulder. He held my arm to my midsection like a steel grip while he lifted my arm up, in the pose the other dancers had taken, only– oh sweet Andraste. His hand brushed its way down my arm, fingers touching the sensitive skin under my breast, warming the tan of my side to grip my hip. My breathing shuddered out of my body and he whispered in my ear, "What game are you playing, Brea?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He dipped me, my head craning to watch as his face, his lips, came daringly close to my own. He quirked an eyebrow, the devilish man, and his scar upturned as he smirked at me. He spun me in several circles before firmly placing me against his body. I swear I fell into a heaping mess on the floor but he guided me, keeping me close to his chest. He pushed his hips against mine and I could feel his erection throbbing through his breeches. I gasped, pulling away, looking him dead in the eye. He smiled a full, broad smile.

We stared at each other for a few minutes, the crowd falling away, the noise no longer heard, the music fading out and all I can see is the rise and fall of his chest, the glint of hunger in his eyes, the same hunger met in my own. We had stopped dancing and a few of the nobles came close to bumping against us.

"We stopped." I whispered, and his eyes turned dark, hovering over something I hadn't yet seen before. He pulled me off the dance floor, his pace fast as he led me into one of the rooms, a dressing room big enough to fit twenty crowds, and he pushed me against the wall.

"Do you know what you're doing to me?" He asked, his voice strained as his adams apple bobbed. Once. Twice. I shook my head, confusion rolling off of me in waves. A part of me understood, but Vivienne and Dorian want him to work for it, and I must please my people. He exhaled and paced in front of me, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Sera mentioned a game, that you and the rest of the party were involved. That you were trying to...Unhinge me." I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"What do you believe?" He sighed in exasperation and clutched at my sides, his eyes bright and wanting, but I could see his aura, the confusion, the apprehension.

"I believe...I believe...You're trying to seduce me." I practically laughed, my eyes darting to his and then the way his nostrils flared. I stared at his lips, my heart rate increasing and beating through my chest. I swore he could have heard it, if he tried hard enough.

"And if I was?" He blinked, as if I had said some magical word that answered the great question he had, and he scowled. He wore a pained look over his features, as if what he wanted was too much to bear.

"Just tell me...Is it wrong? Is what I want wrong?" He threw his head back, shutting his eyes tight. I walked forward and pressed my hands against his vest, feeling the heat radiating off of his body, the muscles straining. My fingers, before I knew what I was doing, pull his head back down so that his eyes meet my own.

"What do you want, Cullen?" He breathed deeply and held my face in his hands, his thumb pulling at my plush bottom lip. My eyes darted hesitantly to his, and for the first time, my master plan started to falter as the need of what I wanted, him, started to take over.

"I want...I want to kiss you. To devour you. Sweet Andraste, I don't know how long I've wanted to taste your skin and your lips..." I shuddered at his words, a chill working through my spine and my eyes fluttered closed as I leaned forward. My fingers played with the rough stubble of his chin, grazing it softly.

Cullen crushed his lips to mine, dragging my body against his, lifting me off the ground and caging me against the wall as he began to kiss at my mouth with a greedy hunger, the need evident in his touch, his kiss. I moaned, my back arching into his chest, seeking comfort. My nipples hardened underneath my corset, constrained by the hard, unyielding fabric. Cullen was the same under my hands, unyielding, his power barely contained as his hands roam my body, his fingers seeking to make me as close to him as possible.

He pulled away first, his breathing ragged and his hand sifting through his hair, making the tight wave fall into two short curls that curve over the arch of his brow.

"Brea...I–I'm sorry I didn't mean to go so fast–" I slowly walked towards him, determination in my gait as I pushed my hands through his hair and pulled down so that his mouth connected to mine, roughly. I sighed as he palmed my tops of my thighs in his hands, kneading with softness and care, but hastily too. I pined for his touch, my hands roaming over his body, yearning for closeness. My nipples were hard points under my corset, biting into the fabric, arching towards his hard body. I was hot, the heat I felt coursing through every crevice of my body, every inch of my being. I threw my head back and he groaned at my immediate response, kissing the skin of my neck and biting the curve where my neck met my shoulder. I gasped.

"Did you just bite me?" The man had the nerve to bark out a throaty laugh before replying.

"No, I nipped you, there's a difference." I kissed him hard, and his hands reached for my hair, pulling out pins and throwing them to the floor, making the locks flow around my face in gracious waves. I bit his bottom lip, then laved the sensitive flesh. I pulled back and smiled.

"There, now we're even." His finger rubbed his lip, and a grin drew his face up happily. I breathed in deeply, warmth spreading through my body and adrenaline pumping through my veins. I could still taste him on my lips, mint and sweet wine, and I smiled. I couldn't stop smiling. He walked forward, his eyes still dark.

"Keep your hair down, you look even more beautiful. You looker younger, and happier." I snorted, running a hand through my hair.

"We're not here for happiness, Cullen." He gave me a look that told me not to fight with him.

"Keep it down, for me, alright?" He pushed a loose strand behind my ear and I began to walk, with him close at my heels. I turned around and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Keep the girls away from you and it's a deal, Commander." I whispered into his ear. We left the dressing room and I tried to look as normal as possible after what had just happened.

Dorian flashed an award winning smile my way, surely glancing over my hair and misshapen attire. I glared at him with feral ferocity, but he simply ignored it and resumed his attention on Vivienne who was wooing one of the courtesans. I walked around the crowd to take a flute of wine, and turned around, knocking into a hard body. I held my hand above me to keep from spilling the red liquid, and I swore I looked like a juggling mime.

"I'm so very, very sorry!" I stuttered, glancing at the figure I had hit. This was going awful, the nobles would surely hate me now. My eyes connected with a masked figure, higher ranking than the other nobles just by his attire. Oh god no.

"Comte Leon! Sweet Andraste I'm so sorry." He smirked underneath the mask, the crows feet around his sharp blue eyes crinkling.

"No need to call out the heaven's names, darling. That usually comes later with me." He gave me a wink, and my head began to register he was flirting we me. I blushed and smiled at him. Vivienne said he was one for games. I guess I had to give him a run for his money. I glanced around the hall, and saw Cullen talking with one of the women. Fire boiled deep inside of my stomach and instead of acting on the anger I felt, the need to go and stake a claim on him, I smiled at the Comte and placed my hand on his forearm.

"I'm sure it does, and will, Comte. So, I have heard that you wanted to talk over things with me? An alliance, I assume?" The Comte offered his arm to me and I took it as he led me throughout the main hall, watching the figures dancing around the floor with his rapt attention.

"Straight to business. That's not usually the way I work, but you wear it well." I glanced over his body, smiling shyly at him.

"Is there anything other than business here, Comte? This is the game, after all." He paused, pulling me with him to one of the small crevices of the palace, his hand on my hip, the other grasping to the glass of wine tightly.

"I usually like to incorporate pleasure. For both parties. It makes things go over more...Smoothly." His finger trailed over my lips, parting them to rest gently on the softness. I reached out and nipped at his finger and his eyes flared with desire.

"Fiery. I'm sure we'll have much fun together, Inquisitor. Would you have this dance with me?" It was then I realized the song had changed to a soft tango, the strings slow and sultry. I took his hand and began to take him onto the dance floor, and he reacted in turn my pulling me against his body and leading the dance. He was strong, if not a bit over controlling. He was gracious and led me around the dancers, taking much more space than needed, making steps much more extravagant and large, as if showing me off to the crowd. As if I was his to flaunt.

He didn't let me cool off or take a break to rest on his shoulder, making me take his movements fast and hard. It felt like we were doing something far beyond the dance, like he was testing my abilities further than my body. The readiness of my mind.

He dipped me, his lips caressing over the mark on my neck, the place where Cullen had bitten me. He whispered insidiously, "You belong to another, Inquisitor? What a shame we'll have to spoil him for you."

I snapped up when he continued on with the dance, his body holding my own too close, too fast. "Who said it was a man I was with, Comte?" The Comte smiled and laughed, ending the dance by bowing to me, his mouth kissing the knuckles of my fingers, longer than I would have liked. My eyes wandered towards Cullen's and he was staring at me angrily, his eyes a tryst golden flame. He pulled one of the girls around him closer, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and I bit my lip, trying to keep from shouting at him.

"So it is a man after all," the Comte's fingers brushed against my thigh, and I shuddered. I despised his touch but I didn't have a choice. In The Game, we didn't do what we wanted; we were puppets to a grander scheme. I turned around in his arms, giving him a smirk of my own, one Dorian would say was too close to Cullen's.

"Would you accompany me to my room, where we could discuss the information I told your beautiful advisor of?" He was clearly hitting on Leliana in front of me, and he seemed more of a womanizer than I thought. The idea of men like him existing in the world angered and frustrated me, but I followed him up the grand stairs where I told him to wait for a moment. I paused behind Cullen, my fingers reaching to touch his back. He flinched at my touch, as if he could tell it was me without turning and gave me a look of distaste over his shoulder.

"Excuse me, Elise." His words were fluid, moving against my skin like metal on metal, crushing my heart underneath my chest. The woman, Elise, was obviously dying to get into his pants, her eyes glazed and her smile woozy. When she saw me she gave me an angry stare and whimpered behind his back as he turned.

"Yes, Inquisitor?" The title took me off guard, slamming more pressure onto my chest and heart.

"Cullen, you have to meet me in the Comte's room." Cullen chuckled and took a sip of wine.

"And why must I do that?" His voice was laced with anger, but I could tell the truth behind it. He was hurt my the way I danced with the Comte, the way he held me. I had only gained his affection moments before and I had to sacrifice it to the Comte for some information. The idea of it made bile rise in my throat. He can't hate me. He can't.

"Please Cullen, I don't trust him. I think he has something planned and I don't know what it is. You're..." I sighed and leaned closer to him. "You're the only one I need for this. The only one I need." My fingers grazed his own but he pulled his hand away.

"Let one of the others deal with it. I'm sure Josephine would help, and Leliana has a dozen different plans and scenarios. All I am is a blade to you, Inquisitor. I only respond when I'm needed." Like what he described, his words cut me similarly to that of a greatsword and I practically gasped. The Comte looked irritably at me, is annoyance at my time taking a toll on his feelings. I scuttled away, hurt and saddened by Cullen's words. I met with the Comte and he raised my chin, wiping a tear from my cheek that I hadn't meant to slip.

"Let me take you far from here, to forget that poor excuse for a man." I sighed, knowing that I wanted to get away, far away from the Comte and closer to Cullen. What he said wasn't true; Cullen was the best man I'd ever met, and my heart beat for him. Instead I had I hurt him, like I hurt most people. That's why I tried to keep everyone several paces away from my heart and I.


	4. Pleasure's Grasp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brea is met with some tough decisions and knowledge that will effect The Inquisition moving forward. Too many things are going on with many different outcomes to consider; what will be her choice? Keep reading and find out more! This is more of a transitional chapter into the next, but it holds a lot of important and key concepts! Please leave comments and if you enjoy it pretty, pretty please say so! :)

_Pleasure's Grasp_

 

I stood in front of the Comte in his room, large and indulgent. Most of the fabric was silk, and several busts of animals hung over the head of the fireplace. I tingled as the warmth of the fire soothed my cold body and heart. The Comte poured me another glass of wine, his fingers slipping over and grasping me as he led me onto his terrace overlooking the Villa de Leon.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, taking in the fresh air and wintry breeze that gusted from the mountains not far west. I saw the stables and the horses, neighing and chewing on hay. Carriages with ornate markings were in the distance, while far beyond that laid plains of wheat and grapes, picked before the air had become cold.

"It is, isn't it? But that's not why I brought you here." He took the goblet from my hands and rested it gently on the stone railing, his hand following the curve of my own to lay on my shoulder.

"You've become famous, and infamous over the past year or so in your conquest to seal the Breach, and most recently, in slaying Corypheus." I blinked, a small admission to what he had said.

His hand caressed me, his fingers intertwining with my own. His voice grated against me like sandpaper, "You have many powerful allies, but one extremely powerful enemy. Darling, do you truly think you can lay the God to rest?" Something about what he said startled me, making me pull away from his grip.

"You as a noble should know better than any how close we are to killing him." I took a hasty sip of my wine, the red liquid coating the back of my tongue and slipping easily down my throat.

He raised his hand to his chin in thought, "Why of course, Inquisitor. I am not so simpleminded. That is the reason I have information at all. Well it's not as much information as an order." I watched him closely, tracking his movements from the balcony, coming to cage me in directly behind him. I turned around in his arms, my fingers grasping the ledge behind me. The stone was cool and hard under my touch, relieving me of some panic that seemed to be sifting through my body.

"That is why Corypheus told me to bring you here." My eyes darted to his, a wicked grin spreading across his face as his hand came up and wrapped around my neck. Before I realized it, my body was hovering over the ground, feet dangling just a few simple feet from safety. "Comte!" I gasped, breath heaving out of my lungs, only to be filled with nothing, heavy stones holding my chest down, making darkness spread around my vision.

He shoved me over the railing, my back hitting the stone with a hard crack. I groaned in agony, spikes of pain reaching through my muscles and bones as the tendrils of misery wrap around my brain and heart. I knew something had been wrong yet I did nothing, I betrayed the trust of my companions, betrayed Cullen. My eyes closed as I realized everything I had done. Adamant, Haven, deaths day in and day out, and a small sliver of my heart desired to die. Die without the glory or the legendary tales. Die just as a woman of nobility, not like the wretched souls inside the palace, pretending to be holy.

I began to let go, the voice of the Comte slipping past my haze only slightly, "He told me I could kill you however I please. I told you there'd be  _pleasure_ , darling Inquisitor." I registered his other hand pulling a dagger from it's sheathe underneath his robes, but it didn't seem to matter to me anymore.

Blood spattered against my clothes, my fingers that hung limply by my sides, my cheeks and hair. First I thought it was my blood and that I was too numb from his hand to feel the pain, but as I fell from the Comte's grasp, I realized it was  _his_  blood.

"Brea!" I gasped as I fell, my name being called, my nails tearing at my dress in an attempt to get air into my pained lungs. Strong arms came around my body but I didn't think of it, I didn't try and figure out who it was. I shut my eyes tight, throbbing in my back making it hard to think, hard to do anything other than breathe. I opened my eyes and worried golden orbs met mine, his hands, fingers, lips fluttering over me.

"Shh, it's alright Brea. Come on." The Commander pulled me up, arm wrapping protectively against my middle. I shuffled away from the Comte's limp body, blood pooling around the blade shoved deeply into his back. I turned my head into Cullen's neck, an unwanted sob escaping from my throat. He moved us closer to the doorway, his hand grasping the hilt of his sword and yanking hard. The blade came easily out of the Comte's body, more blood gushing out of the fatal wound. I practically gagged. I'd never been able to handle death well, and even for a man like the Comte, I couldn't imagine a fate like that.

"The others!" I whispered harshly, my breath causing a small grey mist to form around my mouth, my words. The cold held on, and I shivered, the feeling of death crawling up my veins like black oil; slow and heavy.

"We need to warn the others, they'll be in the ballroom." I mumble, my thoughts lost on the wind. I yank myself out of Cullen's grip and run towards the hall, lifting my gown and jogging down the steps as fast as my feet will carry me. The heavy footsteps behind me tell me that Cullen's following close behind, his breath loud in the quiet of the hallway. As we neared the ballroom, loud shouts and shrieks fill the corridor, and I turn to Cullen.

"Whatever happens," he murmured, palm coming up to gently cup my cheek. "I want you to know that I always believed in you.  _Maker, Breanna_." He leans down and presses a deep kiss to my lips and pulls away. Not knowing what to say, nor understanding what had changed from the short time in the ballroom, I circled around and pushed open the great doors, my party awaiting me in a semi-circle, a defensive stance. Dorian, Vivienne, Cassandra and Sera stood in the front, weapons ready except for Vivienne who was holding her hands up, frost forming and breaking over her fingertips. Behind stood Leliana and Josephine, with only one or two guards. Cullen hastily walked towards Leliana, shielding her from a noble who had taken his mask off and wielded a pair of dragon bone knives.

"I don't have a staff, Dorian." I murmured in distress as I stepped out from behind him, my hand on his shoulder, widening the barrier protecting the inner circle of Inquisition members. his eyes dart to mine from the corner of his own, his irises flaring a deep, magical shade of green before returning to normal.

"Take the pendant off, Brea. You'll be safe." I blink and tear the necklace from where it lays around my pale skin, throwing it to the ground. Almost instantly my fingers ignite with flame, the bright red fire trailing along my skin and up my arms until my upper body is coursing with heat. Nothing burns, of course. Whatever I do, I am immune to the flames that surround me, but the fear that crosses the noblemen fighters' faces makes me smile. I touch my hands to the floor, letting the flame roll over the marble and as I lift my hands, a shield of fire rises up, cutting off the fighters' stance.

"Josephine, tell the people to get to safety, quickly." Josephine spoke quickly, and the members of the crowd that weren't a part of the Comte's brigade parted and went to the second level, where instead archers stood prepared to fire their arrows.

"Fucking shit!" Sera cursed, her bow aimed at one of the marksmen, arrow strung tight. "Shitty, fuck, crap! Why! Andraste why can't I just have a party in peace!" She yells, firing at the marksmen, the arrow piercing his skull with a wooshing sound. "And may I mention all the bloody magic here. Fucking crazy, yeah?" She looks over to Leliana, who's scowling at the faces within the crowd, men and women she probably knows.

I pull the fire back from the ceiling and encase it in my hands, the flames momentarily forming shrapnel until I release the scraps back out, the pieces slicing through the swords and their wielders. Some larger chunks hold the men anchored against the wall, while some of the chips have shredded the rest. Flames lick up my arms as I create a two long whips of fire, yanking down the archers from their stance on the higher level of the ballroom. My party begins attacking them, their movements measured and precise, not missing a fatal blow, dodging the strikes that would be catastrophic with calculated ease. A part of me is proud.

"Cullen, get them out of here!" I shouted, his eyes darting to mine, only to refocus on the battalion of men now running from the stairs across from us, gathering in all of the empty spaces. If it wasn't all so bloody, it would seem like a beautiful dance of knives and swords. Of life and death.

"Andraste, no! Are you insane?"

"That's an order!" He snarled at my command, crushing the chest of a man who's attacked him, his sword pulling out of flesh once again. Blood spattered against him and he didn't flinch, his face hardened as if he's a Templar once again. His aura practically emanated it. He began to grab the different members of my party, advisors first. Slowly the number of fighters I had protecting my flank dwindled and I'm left alone with Cullen, a semi-circle quickly forming around us.

"Get out of here, Cullen. Go, _now_!"

"I'm not leaving you here!" He growled, knocking a soldier to the ground with one heavy shield bash, his shoulder ramming hard into his opponent. I swung around a marksmen, my hands wrapping around his neck and twisting, landing as his neck cracks. Fire shot out of my palm, holding off the remaining fighters so that he could leave.

"I'll keep the fight here, find the others and leave!" As I moved around, one rogue slashed the back of my shoulder and side, blood beginning to gush from the wound. I yelled in surprise and in pain. "Shit!" Cullen sent a wistful look my way, and ran towards the door, shutting it with a hard bang. I was able to get hits in where I could, my fire finding my enemies with practiced precision. The amulet no longer restrained me, no longer held back what I fought so desperately to hide within myself, the darkest corner of my heart and mind.

A swordsman knocked me onto the floor, my body ricocheting off of the hard marble with a clang of metal and the thump of flesh and muscle. The guards began to surround me, and one swung his broadax high into the air, gaining momentum. As the blade sliced across the air, I turned away and hid my body, shielding what I knew will be a fatal hit. I closed my eyes, and I did something I never thought I'd do. I pray.  _To the Maker._

_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,_

_I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm._

_I shall endure._

_What you have created, no one can tear asunder._

_Though all before me is shadow,_

_Yet shall the Maker be my guide._

_I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond._

_For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light_

_And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost._

With a loud clang, the axe bounced off of a sharp and sturdy blade. My head snapped up, witnessing Cullen pushing the noble back and striking him with enough force to throw him across the room. He grabbed my arm and began to drag me to the door, but I broke free and jumped towards my amulet, clasping it and placing the warm stone in the place where my chest met with the gown.

"We don't have time for that!" He frowned and slammed the door to the ballroom shut, taking a piece of wood and placing it lengthwise against the frame so no one could come through. At least not for long. He took my hand and guided me down the winding pathways and stairs, down the long corridors and to the entrance of the Chateau, the heavy metal doors opening with a great push from the both of us. We ran towards the stables, out of breath from our escape.

Cullen took a horse from the stables without much delay, hopping over the back. He yanked my arm and pushed me in front of him, not bothering to use a saddle, only the reigns to guide us back to Skyhold. Noise erupted from behind us and the troops began to storm out from the palace, taking position by the doorway. I created a flame blockade and told Cullen to ride.

We didn't say much during the journey. We joined my party and advisors outside of the Chateau where they waited, and Leliana told us that in the condition the weather was in, the best thing to do was to ride until we met the first camp at Emprise du Lion. None of us disagreed with her. No–all of us were completely silent. My head was spinning with all of the thoughts and conclusions I would have to draw from what had happened at the palace. If anyone knew me, they knew I hated confrontation, but yet I always muddled through it. Sometimes I even enjoyed fighting, as long as it stuck closer to debating rather than swordplay. That was what I had been taught as an Elven Mage. I wasn't supposed to have any special abilities. I was invisible to the world and the world should be invisible to me. The Circle didn't help much, and the Templars only made the situation far more worse.

My family hated me for what I was. My father even wanted to disown me. Sure my mother kept him from doing so, since he was a noble and nobles shouldn't be seen doing that, lest his popularity fall, but the intent was all the same. I remember seeing the sadness in my mothers eyes as I left home, a satchel over my shoulders and a few pieces of bread. It was pathetic, what I had come to after having so much, but it taught me more than I ever would've learned with them. Now that I was popular, my mother often sent Josephine letters, describing in great detail how the Lavellan family would be honored to have the Herald within their midst. All of it was ironic after what they had told me, but I failed to let Josephine know that information. Leliana of course confronted me about it, but she had yet tell anyone about my sordid past.

The only words Cullen spoke was to ask if I was hurt, and even that was brusque. Other than that, we rode on. I tried to ignore that I was in front of him, back pressed against him, horse rocking us forward. He was radiating warmth, but a part of it, I could tell, was from anger that sparkled in his aura. I knew commanding him to get out was a bad call, but he couldn't be all that mad at me for it, could he? He knew I had to do it to save lives, surely. He may be Commander most of the time, but even he'd have to admit he would make sacrifices to save the lives of others, even if it meant risking his own life. I'd seen it at Haven, when he volunteered to hold off the Mages with Corypheus, a task he knew he wouldn't return from. It would've saved more lives, allotted us more time to get people safely out of Haven. I, however, felt more responsible as the so called Herald and the Inquisitor to make sure that I lost as little lives as possible.

Soon my eyes began to drift, and I leaned against Cullen's strong and warm chest, becoming lost in the rhythmic gallop of the horse and the jumble of cloth and armor.


	5. Small Recoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brea is now at the first camp of Emprise du Lion, on her way home, but their pitstop is met with memories, laughter, sadness and pain.

_Small Recoveries_

   Strong arms roused me from my sleep, and I was faintly aware of being carried off of the horse I had been traveling on. I peeked a look up at my courier who had enough strength to carry me without faltering. My eyes connected to the strong jawline of the Commander, his eyes focused ahead of me, lips turned down in a frown. I couldn’t place what he was frowning at, but I didn’t want him to do it. My hand involuntarily reached up and traced the line of his scar before my fingers snapped back to place, as if remembering where I was. As if remembering it wasn’t my place to touch him like that. 

   Cullen’s eyes met mine and his gaze slipped over me, eyeing my small form. I was about the same height as him when I stood, my long thin legs and arms making me more lanky than I usually liked to admit. Varric told me I was dexterous before laughing and downing a keg of ale with Krem and the Chargers. It was something that plagued me, but like most things that had to do with my appearance, I happily ignored it. The cold seeped from the air into my body and my breath was little puffs of smoke that died on the wind. He spoke, words I wouldn’t dream to try and understand, my head too fuzzy and my body aching as if I had been rammed into repeatedly. I probably had been with the fight at the Chateau.

   Cullen stood me upright and I wobbled, grabbing a hold of his shoulder to steady myself. I coughed, my lungs still recovering from the Comte, and the fast movement of standing upright sent the oxygen out of my lungs. My head was throbbing and a headache was forming in the back of my skull, the pulse of my heart vibrating against the bone like a practiced drum. 

   Sera piped up behind us, “Well that was as unexpected as a hive of bees falling from the sky!” She pointedly looked at Leliana, her gaze firing daggers through the spymaster. 

   The red-haired women shot the archer a glance that could kill, “If I had known the Comte’s plans, I would have stopped him. Cut him off at the head.” I waved a hand and tried to stop the bickering, the throbbing in my skull too prominent to care about anything else. 

   “Look, let’s just go to the tents and get some rest. We can worry about Corypheus and the Comte once we get back to Skyhold.” Vivienne shot Sera a disgusted look. 

   “Perhaps if you didn’t wish to come darling, you should have stayed at Skyhold along with your bees and wardrobe.” Even Dorian raised his eyebrows at that, deciding who he should focus on, the Enchantress or the Archer. 

   “I’m sorry, does your snobbish arse have an issue me?” Sera stepped forward, becoming face to face with the Circle Mage. 

   “I wouldn’t have an issue with you if  _your_  arse wasn’t here to begin with, dear. I needn’t fight with a child in adult matters.” Sera laughed, grabbing at her stomach and circling around to point a finger in Vivienne’s face. 

   “You’ve got some nerve, yeah? Who was saving your arse from them poison-throwin-bastards while you danced around looking all pretty with some ice shooting from your hands like some witchy bitch, eh?” Vivienne looked offended, her eyes looking over the elf with a once over glare. 

   “No, don’t need to respond to that, Missy High Enchantress or whatever, you. Take off that pretty little title and whatcha got but a bunch of fake nothings, alright? So don’t come here talking ‘bout my bees and my wardrobe and my stuff, okay? Keep your nose in your own circle, don’t mess around in mine.” Sera stomped off, her feet kicking up dust as she walked into a tent and threw the terse fabric harshly behind her. 

   I stood there, my feet unable to take me any farther, my eyes still trying to process what I had just witnessed. Whatever remnants of reason I had left in my brain told me it was steam from the fight earlier stemming this one, but with Sera and Vivienne, you never truly knew. Before I could say anything, I heard a voice calling out my name, gasping for breath, “Inquisitor! Inquisitor Lavellan!” I took a steadying pause, trying to prepare myself for the next bout of whatever was to come, and turned around to face the younger girl running towards me, a board and notepad in hand. If it was a dragon, a mage, a swordsman, Corypheus or Andraste herself, preserve me, I would walk right away.

   “There are are only several tents here in the camp, not enough for all eight of you–” In an almost practiced unison, everyone but Cullen and I called a tent for themselves, moving quickly to occupy the small fabric forts. Dorian shuffled quickly to my side, eyes dark as if he was trying to communicate with me.  _Take the offer_ , he was saying.  _Don’t let the Commander run away._  A small part of me thanked him, but another was slightly scared at how all of them knew the both of us well enough to take the hint. I glanced up at Cullen, stealing a peek at his features, but he was painstakingly neutral, the Commander taking the place of the sweet, adoring Cullen. Sometimes they seemed like two different people. One I had only seen in small, private moments when he thought no one was watching. Then he had that other part of himself. Something Cullen could pull on and off like a mask, something interchangeable within himself. I remembered when I had to do the same, hide from those who sought to make my life misery. 

   “I suppose that means we’ll have to share a tent.” As if he’d just heard the conversation, his head snapped to the side, eyes wide. Suddenly he came into focus, his eyes becoming an attentive light brown, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn together. Oh those lips– I could almost feel them on mine, moving,  _grating_  against my own like he was seeking something that only I could give him. Like he a drowning man and I his air. I shuddered, trying to grasp the remaining part of my mind and thought that was slowly slipping away from me the more time I spent with him. 

   “Oh...Oh yes, of course.” I raised an eyebrow in speculation. I could practically see the gears in his brain beginning to turn as he realized what he had said, and I enjoyed watching the flush of heat crawling over the back of his neck. He began to stutter, “I didn’t mean– Oh Andraste preserve me. Goodnight Ser Caroline.” His footsteps were light and quick, something strange, I had noticed, for a Templar. Most Templars had heavy steps made for pounding, crushing– but I often had to remind myself Cullen was not a Templar any longer. But even so, didn’t old habits die hard? Wouldn’t that small part of Templar live within him, or was it haunting him more emotionally than physically?

   So there I stood, alone in the middle of the camp, no life strumming through my veins. I inhaled deeply and a sharp pain twisted within my gut, cramping until I could no longer stand. I collapsed with a shriek, but my voice, I could hear, was cut off by the feeling within my side. My hand pulled away and was slick with blood, my blood, warm and sticky. The iron scent wafted around me and it made me want to throw up. I heaved, my eyes beginning to tear and blood dripping down my side is a small stream.  _Oh no_ , I thought with a sudden fear, my chest tightening with apprehension. 

   Cullen bolted through the fabric of the tent, his body bare, just a simple pair of trousers hanging loosely from his hips. It amazed me that I could still be taken by surprise at his masculine beauty given my current state. The way with which he walked and carried himself practically made me groan. 

   “Brea!” He shouted but the noise was muted to my ears, lost to hearing which seemed to be swimming in a tide of blood and a sudden dizziness. 

   “No–no, oh Andraste no. How could I have been so daft not to see you were injured!” He swept me in his arms and began to carry me to the healer’s tent, but I protested, “No, you don’t need to bring me there, I’m fine!” Cullen threw a harsh look my way and expelled a breath. Instead he turned us around, taking me to the tent he had run out from, his hands warm; soft and inviting against my body. My body leaned into his touch, unbeknownst to me, until he let me down on the fur bed and I craved the warmth of him once more. He left the room, only to come back with a bowl of water and cloth, and I tried–albeit in a weakened way–to maneuver away from him. 

   “Oh no you don’t.” His fingers twisted around my ankle and he grasped me tight, keeping me in place. He brought the cloth to my side, and I threw my head back in pain. 

   “I don’t need it!” I tried to mumble, but my voice was strained from trying to leash the agony coursing through my body. 

   “ _Void take you,_ you are too stubborn for your own good. Stop squirming!” I gasped, both in laughter and pain not only from my side, but from the concentrative effort it was taking him to try and subdue me, even in my state. I huffed out a pathetic laugh and relaxed, trying to ignore that Cullen was playing mother hen to me. 

   “I think it would be more wise if you let me take a bath and _then_ help me clean my wound. I’m dirty and caked in mud and smell like horse for Andraste’s sake.” For the first time, I think ever, Cullen snorted and gave me a look that said  _no way, Andraste’s Herald or no_. I pursed my lips and pushed his hands off my body, making a small noise of discomfort as I sat up. 

   “Brea, I saw you collapse. I’m not letting you take a bath.” I rolled my eyes at him, but his face turned dark instead. I bit my lip, trying to hold back my emotions yet it didn’t seem to help either.

   “Just trust me, alright? If anything’s going to kill me, Commander, it won’t be my own stupidity.” A  _really_  look passed over his face, but I ignored it and stood, my knees wobbly from the blood loss. Or at least I thought. Being touched by Cullen seemed to have the equivalent affect on me. Like he could hear my thoughts, his fingers wrapped around my hips and he guided me slowly to the bathing room. In reality, the ‘bathing room’ was simply a tied piece of fabric hiding a mirror, a small tub and a chamber pot. I practically groaned. This was no Skyhold. It had been weeks since I had had to live in these conditions, and being in  _my_  condition didn’t really help. 

   I turned over in his arms and smiled, my eyes glinting with mischievousness. My voice was more sultry than before, no doubt yet another affect of being in his arms.

  “Unless you wish to help me undress, this is where you leave.” I enjoyed watching the black in his eyes dilate and the gold rim thinning until it was simply the size of a thread. My fingers unbuttoned the top of my dress, releasing the tight lace clasp at my neck and allowing me to finally breathe for once the entire night. A wave of emotions passed over Cullen’s features before he left, his feet lightly taking him to the bedchamber, defeated in their sound. 

   I stripped the rest of the now tattered and torn dress from my body and looked at myself in the mirror, bruises lacing my arms, legs and torso. Cuts tore through parts of my skin, blood dried and cracking, except for the large gash in my side which continued to gush the red fluid even now. I dropped my gaze to the flesh, my fingers prying the ripped skin until they caught on a piece of metal. I mewled, my breath coming out in pants and my eyes rolling back in my head until I was able to get a firm grip and yank the shard out. 

   Antivan steel, I assumed, throwing the piece to the stone floor and walking slowly to the tub. I poured the warm water into the tub and gingerly stepped in, the feeling of hot water scalding my flesh. It wasn’t necessarily unwelcome, but felt instead like it was burning away the rest of the night from my body. I sighed and let my head rest against the lip of the cool marble, relishing in the feel of something strong and sturdy holding me safe, other than Cullen’s arms. That was a whole other situation which I had no more strength left to deal with. My mind drifted to different, isolated thoughts. Some of the Comte and his alliance with Corypheus, but that only made me furious. Another was of Vivienne and Sera’s fighting, which showed no sign of relent, but that was for another day as well. Cullen...There were a million different thoughts racing through my brain on him, but none of them were helpful in guiding me to a solution, nor words that would help me talk to him. Instead, I began to slip in and out of consciousness. Whether it be from blood loss or exhaustion, neither seemed to matter at the moment.

 

   A soft knock roused me from my lethargic state, Cullen’s voice carrying to me behind the wall of fabric separating us. 

   “Are you alright? Do you need help?” I practically laughed. I rolled my head and stepped out of the warm water, taking a plush towel from it’s place on the side of the marble and wrapping myself in it. Before I completely covered myself, I realized the cut was higher on my body than I thought, spanning the space of my side to the middle of my shoulder blade. How Cullen was going to bandage that was beyond me, but I peeked around the fabric and was met with his concerned gaze. 

   “Hi.” I murmured, laughing at how idiotic I sounded. My voice was low and high at the same time, reminding me of my years as a teenager. My years of naive thoughts and actions. 

   “Hi,” he smiled, blinking once as if unsure I was real and he was trying to assure himself I was. “Do you need anything?” I bit my lip and realized he was still shirtless, my eyes wandering over the broad expanse of his chest, the small white scars marring the planes of his beautiful muscles and skin. I blushed as I realized I was staring. 

   “Um...I–Actually I do. Is there a robe somewhere out there?” I could practically feel the embarrassment spreading across my cheeks. He turned his back to me, feet taking him a few paces away until he grabbed something thin and brought it to me. 

   “Here,” he lowered his hand so that I could grasp it from him, and for one moment, our fingers brushed and tingles shot through my hand. Our eyes met and I smiled at him. He was so sweet, too sweet to be real. The small scar on the side of his lip lifted as well, leaving him with a half smile, eyes never leaving mine. I sucked in a breath and murmured my thanks, turning around and wrapping the robe tightly around my body. 

   “Silk?  _Really_?” I spoke to the curtain separating myself from Cullen, but I knew it made no difference. I could practically feel him behind me, something sizzling like a rope on fire, always. 

   “Don’t blame me, they wish the best for their Herald.” I pulled the curtain aside, walking towards him with my hand firmly on my side, trying to halt the still bleeding wound. The look of shock that passed over his face was well worth any pain I was feeling, the way his eyes scraped over my body, categorizing every detail to mind almost. 

   “Not that I would blame them either,” he rasped out in a thick voice, clearing his throat as if he could hide the change in him by that simple noise. His hand reached out to me, and I placed mine in his. The contrast, I realized now, was huge. He was toned.  _Everywhere_. Muscles lined his arms and chest, but his hands were so large. While I danced with him, I didn’t note the differences, things flashing so hard and fast, like a whirlwind of passion and color. Now, I saw my pale skin, small fingers grasping his tan hand. The callouses raked against my soft skin, rousing goosebumps over my arms. Yet the contrast was so stark, his gentleness extraordinary. It was frightening that such hands could kill and soothe so easily. One extreme to another. Again, an electric current practically shot through me and it only forced me closer to him, each step making me hold in a breath.

   “I need to clean your wound. Here, sit.” He led me to the middle of the bed, putting gentle pressure on my shoulder to get me to sit down. My legs felt like jelly, so I complied, crossing myself at the knees and waiting patiently as Cullen grabbed things he needed. All that I could bare to watch him pull out was the same bowl of now fresh water with a new cloth, as well as bandages, herbs, a thread and needle. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to ignore the deep rooted feeling in my stomach he was going to have to stitch me. I had been stitched up once before, at the Circle, after a Templar had...stabbed me. I jerked as Cullen rested his hand on my shoulder, the memory of the Templar flashing in front of my eyes before I calmed at his soft touch. 

   “I need to...” I could  _hear_  him swallow, and I looked over my shoulder at him. My lashes fluttering and my eyelids heavy from exhaustion. That mixed in with the constant ache for his touch didn’t make it any better, either. My fingers slipped under the silk of the robe, pulling it slowly over my shoulder so that he could better treat the wound. In my head I knew what he would see, pale skin covered in small scars and cuts. I clawed at the fabric, trying to only allow Cullen to see my bare shoulder and side. It was a struggle. I watched his adam’s apple bob as he dipped the cloth carefully into the water and pressed it ever so gently to my gash. 

   I sucked in a deep breath, my side arching away from the press of his hand, but his fingers at my hip kept me steady and in place. He sighed, leaning closer, “In order for me to properly do this, you have to stop fighting me. There’s still dirt in your cut.” I took one deep breath. Two. Three, and nodded, allowing him to go on. I whimpered as the cloth dug shallowly into the crevice of the sore flesh, wiping away debris and anything else that could’ve found it’s way into the stupid thing and started an infection. 

   “Talk to me, please.” I gasped, my hands clawing at the sheets for something to keep me steady. My vision began to blur from the intense pain. 

   “About what?” Came his soft reply, tone so deep that somehow it managed to soothe the pain, even slightly. 

   “How–Ouch!” I cried out and lurched away as he placed the ointment on the cut. I took a steadying breath and plowed on. “How did you learn to do this?” 

   “What? Heal? Oh...Well, when I was at Kirkwall.” I growled in frustration, my ploy at conversation and diversion failing miserably. If I made it through the gash, Josephine would kill me for my poor conversational skills as a noble. He began to stitch the wound and I practically howled in misery.

   “I know that. Maker...” My nails dug into my skin, red marks appearing where my nails left. “Why did you learn? I mean I never knew you could do this.” He chuckled, and I could feel the heat of his body behind me, warming me from the chill in the air. It was Emprise du Lion, ice was born in this place. 

   “Well, as a Templar, it’s believed you have to be able to mend the wounds you can inflict. Templars aren’t the dull creatures everyone makes them out to be. They’re not everything they seem.” He began to apply the bandages, layering the soft fabric across my skin. I leaned into his touch this time instead of motioning away. The wound felt better, the healing herbs beginning to take affect on the bruised and torn flesh. He took the silk of the robe in his hand and lifted it to once again cover my shoulder and body, fingers lingering on the skin of my neck. 

   I turned around in his touch and grasped his hand within mine, nuzzling the inside of his palm. I murmured against his skin, “I can tell.” His eyes darted to my own, hesitancy flashing across the fiery golden orbs before he pulled away, taking the bowl with blood doused water in hand and walking to the opposite side of the room. I sighed and slowly crawled off of the bed, my body automatically drawing myself closer to him. 

   “You know, I think we’re going to have to choose who takes the bed and who takes the floor. I’ll willingly take the floor.” Cullen turned around and raised a hand to his hair, fingers brushing through the strands, the blonde pieces curling over his eyebrow in an adorable tumble of gold. 

   “In your condition? And even so, you’re the Herald–no–the Inquisitor. You take the bed, I’ll take the floor.” He gathered a large blanket and one pillow in his large arms and began to arrange them in a neat and orderly pile on the floor. Leave it to a Templar to be hyper-organized. 

   “I’m no child Cullen. I’m the Inquisitor and you’re the Commander–” He sat himself on the floor and looked up at me with tired eyes. 

   “I’m trying to be chivalrous, Brea.” I knelt in front of him, taking his chin between my thumb and forefinger and looked him eye to eye. 

   “You know what?  _Fuck chivalry._  It's just you and me and a bed. They had us stay in the same tent. Did they expect their Inquisitor or Commander to sleep on the floor? I think not.” He had the nerve to laugh and lean against one hand placed firmly behind him, his chest standing out prominently, bodies so close. Too close. 

   “Yes, but it's different from how you make it to seem. It is  _you_ , and  _me_ ,  _sharing_ one bed.” I took him by the hand, forcing him to stand as I tilted my head. His jaw ticked as if he was annoyed, but his eyes held the amusement he dare not say. I pressed my hand against his chest, my fingertips playing with the fine golden hair there. He threw his head back and groaned, the noise reverberating through my frame and the affect was as if he had electrocuted my body. 

   “Are you afraid of me, Cullen?” His head snapped back up but his eyes were soft, fingers brushing against the silk of the robe and the fine length of my skin. 

   “Honestly? I am.” His fingers kneaded the flesh that craved him, allowing sparks to flow through my body–slow and hot. This was no ball and we were on no rushed schedule. We weren’t forced to hide, and Cullen seemed to enjoy it being this way. Paced. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed the soft skin underneath his jaw, fine stubble grading against my skin and making me arch into his hold. 

   “I never apologized, did I?” He pushed me forward, two hands on my shoulders, eyes a strange mix of sad and aroused. 

    “Apologized for what?” I asked, my voice sounding much smaller and unlike my own than this entire night, as if now I was nervous around him. I had a great façade when it came to people, but Cullen seemed to knock it down completely. 

   “For letting the Comte put his hands on you, letting him take you. God what could've happened if I didn't reach you in time. If Dorian hadn't told me–” My head ran around the fact Dorian had told Cullen about the Comte and I, and I realized that was the missing link between the icy Cullen and the adoring one. Dorian had told Cullen what game I was playing with the Comte. 

   “But you did, Cullen. He did tell you and you came, and you saved my life. Twice.” I had cut him off to make him understand, but I could see the same pang of guilt weigh down his voice, his entire body and soul it seemed.

   “But what if I didn't reach you in time? What if it wasn't enough? I was so foolish, so enwrapped and jealous, I couldn’t see what was truly happening. I was blind, and that blindness almost had you killed.” He snarled, looking above me and wrapping me tight into his embrace as if he had almost lost me, and the tighter he held me the less chance there was for me to leave him now.  

   “You can't worry yourself with what could've been.” His fingers grabbed the small of my back, trying to maneuver me somehow closer to his body. I nuzzled his neck as if it would help him see that I was here, now, and that was what mattered. That it was because of him. He pulled back and held my face between his palms, thumb tracing the small red tattoo scaling my eye. 

   “I can't handle what couldn't have been. Maker that sounds foolish,” his voice rasped out, forehead connecting with mine. 

   “No it doesn't,” I placed my hand over his heart, the rhythmic beating fast and unsteady under my palm. “I feel the same.” Both in emotion and reaction, I wished to say, but I found words failed me when it came to Cullen. I was grasping at straws, trying to make the pieces fit, to make him understand that this wasn’t all it was. It wasn’t all it had to be. 

   “Don’t you think this is too fast? Andraste save me, I practically...That closet...” The skin around my eyebrows crinkled as a smile tugged at my lips. 

   “I’ve waited too long, Cullen. I don’t think fast or slow matters.” He shook his head as if I didn’t understand some grand plan created by the Maker himself. 

   “It does matter. I’ve dreamt about you too much to let what I feel right now get in the way of what I want to happen.” The smile couldn’t go away even if a giant yanked at the corners. My smile was firmly planted and my heart soaring above the clouds. 

   “You’ve dreamt about this, have you?” He gulped, and I laughed, finding his reactions adorable. Slowly, ever so slowly, I leaned against his body and pressed my lips softly to his, moving gently. His response worried me. He didn’t automatically react until I pressed harder, jolting him as if I had taken him from a dream. Like a true Templar, he began to lead, pushing me further behind towards the bed until the back of my knees were pressed firmly against the cushion, and I was forced down, Cullen’s body following my own. This was no palace. He was calm, not like he didn’t feel it, no, he felt like the eye of a storm, emotions running wildly, jumping and flailing one place to the other. No, he was simply more restrained, taking his time. I trembled underneath his touch, his body curling over mine until he’s kneeling above me, kissing me slowly and sweetly. His tongue began to tease me, asking entrance to my lips.

   I pulled away, gasping for breath, chest heaving harshly. “It just dawned on me, I don’t know as much about you as I’d like to know.” I could see the silent anguish pass over his face, like I had denied a child a candy or token. He shook his head, lips kissing a trail from the curve of my neck before he rested his chin on my collar bone, hands placed firmly on my hips. 

   “Leliana must have told you all of the details, and we’ve spoken about my past many times.” I pursed my lips and looked away, contemplating a better approach to learn about his childhood. If there were adorable stories about a little Cullen with sparkling golden eyes and fiery blonde hair, I  _needed_  to hear them. 

   “What about your family? You haven’t spoken about them that often.” Very subtlety, his face fell, his eyelashes lowering to give me a simmering look. 

   “And what would you like to know about them?” I pretended to be contemplating the possibilities, but Cullen laughed and drew his knees in front of him. 

   “I suppose I’ll start from the beginning of my childhood. I was raised in Honnleath, on a small farm. I was of small nobility, but we didn’t have enough power or stature to actually have much money and such. I was raised with an older brother and sister, along with a little sister of mine. Branson, Rosalie and Mia...” 

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   “When I came back home after my first draught, Rosalie practically killed me. She hadn’t been at the farm in a long while, and hadn’t heard news that I had been formally introduced into the Order and begun lyrium. She thought I was off on some whim, a young boy wishing to be a man amongst men. She threw an iron pot at my head. Luckily she missed. Now she says it was a purposeful miss, but I’m still not so sure.” I laughed, my feet stretching out in front of me. I didn’t know how long we had been laughing about his past, the good and the bad, but I felt like I knew him more than I ever could have, more than I ever did. A lot of his actions seemed to have explanations. Nervousness from the Templars, shyness from the Templars, fierce chivalrous attitude? Being raised with two girls. His life sounded happy, filled with adventure and love. I couldn’t say I experienced the same, but I was elated that he trusted me with his past, whatever stories they were. 

   “We’ve been talking so much about my history, what about yours? You almost never talk about your childhood. Leliana doesn’t even  _pry_.” His voice was gentle, soothing, almost like he could tell I needed the comfort to form some sort of courage to even speak a word. 

   “My youth wasn’t as joyful nor colorful, I’m afraid.” He pursed his lips and drew circles on the tops of my legs, coaxing me closer to him. 

   “Please?” I sighed, brushing a hand through my hair and letting my fingers curl into a nervous ball in my lap. 

   “I guess it all starts with my father. He was a worker under Cailan before the Blight, and after, appointed to nobility. My mother was the daughter of a high ranking noble under Cailan and Alistair as well. They met when she had been struck by a Templar in a drunken fit years before the last Blight, and a year and a half later they were married and I was born. He had become leader of Clan Lavellan, but it wasn’t until later I learned it was from the backs of other elves that he was able to accomplish it. He was a good father while I was young, taking me around Ferelden and Orlais, showing me the different historical sites and promoting his nobility with his daughter at the front. It was a beautiful guise for his  _noble_  intentions. My mother had never told him that her family had Mage blood. Although most lay dormant, some generations were able to use their abilities. When I was seven or so, I accidentally made a barn burst into flames. The barn was empty, luckily, but that was when things started to spiral.”

   “Our lives went out of control very fast. My father began drinking.  _Heavily_. He led Clan Lavellan, and tried to find ways to suppress my abilities. Two months after no results, he told me that he hated me and would’ve rather had a son. Eleven months later, Samuel was born. One night, I remember, my mother and him were fighting, and as he was about to strike her I intervened. After, every time he became drunk or angry, he would slap me, hit me, throw me across the room. I became numb to it, in a way. Most days I would take Samuel to the center of the clan so that we’d both be safe, but my mother stayed behind.”

   “One time, after I had a split lip from one of his hits, she apologized and told me love was a complicated thing. I’ll never forget that I told her she didn’t have to apologize because she already had chosen who she loved more. So then I had a deluded mother, an abusive father and a younger brother that would no doubt become the torment of my father’s hatred at some point. Soon, my father began keeping us locked in the house, away from the clan, so that they wouldn’t see the bruise marks or so that we wouldn’t be able to speak. Then he began to stop sending food, and stopped doing anything for us all together.” 

   I paused at the look of shock on Cullen’s face, but I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears from coming and I moved forward. 

   “When my father left for a meeting one day, I gathered my brother, packed a small satchel of clothes and left. My mother didn’t come with us. She swore she loved him and that we’d never understand. So I left to Redcliffe with Samuel, traveling through a forest with no map or way, and only a piece or two of bread to fill us for a week. There I was shown compassion and love, and truly began to understand not everything revolved around Clan Lavellan. Other than the trips with my father, I hadn’t truly seen anything other than that. I suppose you could say I was brainwashed for a long time.” I dropped my head, my eyes scanning over my nails and I began to bite my lip. 

   Cullen drew my hands within his own, my palms small in his grasp. 

   “I’m sorry,” he said softly. I shook my head, as if it would somehow clear my thoughts and memories.

   “For what?” Before I knew it I was snuggled in Cullen’s chest, my face in the crook of his shoulder. He was careful around my side, but he still held me tight. 

   “That I didn’t know sooner. That I never asked.” I chuckled silently, my body adjusting to the warmth of him, the radiating heat that was close to overheated. 

   “Only Leliana and you know now. The past is the past.” Cullen nuzzled my hair, my cheek. 

   “You can’t say it doesn’t still affect you.” 

   “So what if it does? That part of me is out of my life or sealed far away.”

   “I may wish to kill the man for hurting you and your family like that, but you can’t tell me that you’ve completely forsaken that part of you.” He spoke, but a part of me didn’t want to hear it. 

   “I’ve learned one too many things as an Inquisitor, Cullen. One of them is that compassion is for the weak and empathy for the doomed.” Suddenly I was underneath him, his elbow helping him rest against my body, hovering but not laying heavily on top of me. He moved like a shadow, fast and stealthy. I supposed as a warrior it was part of the job, but it continued to amaze me. 

   “I know you don’t believe that. I see what you do, Brea, and whether you like it or not you care.” I sighed, turning my face away from him so I wouldn’t have to look at him, not be met with those soft, gleaming and sweet eyes that I yearned to gaze into. 

   “Can we go to sleep? I’m tired.” I knew that he could tell that’s wasn’t what I truly wanted, but he didn’t fight me on my choice to leave the topic buried. When we were settled I was leaning off of my injured side, facing Cullen who decided to glance over my body. Once. Twice.  

   “See something you like, Commander?” He blushed furiously and I couldn’t help a giggle from escaping my chest. I drifted off to sleep, feeling both safe by the comfort of the bed but also of Cullen’s presence by my side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please please please add Kudos and Comments! Bookmark if you like it too! I'll update regularly and if I get more Kudos/Comments/Bookmarks I will start posting even sooner than a weekly basis! I double scout honor swear!


	6. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brea finds some interesting information regarding the Comte and his alliance to Corypheus. How will this effect Brea going forward and her actions to defeat the Magister?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this chapter will be a little short! My writing has been cut off by some work and other things I have been doing lately, but when summer comes, I promise more updates. Please please comment if you like it, and if you don't, tell me why! Yell at me! Tell me youre needs an apostrophe! PLEASE LEAVE KUDOS AND COMMENTS!!! :D Anything! Enjoy & <3!

_Reflections_

 

I woke up to the steady, rhythmic beating of a heart against my cheek. I moaned, groggily wiping my eyes to take away the haze of sleep. Despite my best efforts, it seemed, I couldn't keep my hands off of Cullen. Even subconsciously. I was wrapped a million different ways around him, our bodies strangely intertwined like a beautiful bow gone awry. His warm palm was on my hip, grasping at the flesh tightly while his other hand was banded around my waist, a steel beam to my escape. The wound in my side still twinged with pain, but it was no longer unbearable. I tried to stifle a giggle while I maneuvered away from him, but the noise fell from my lips against my will.

I watched as his eyebrows first creased to the center of his forehead before he inhaled deeply and yawned. One golden eye peeked out at me, eyes obviously drowsy from sleep. My hand, of its own volition, reached out and rubbed the stubble on his cheek and his own palm grasped mine, holding me in place. I tried to move my leg from his, but he groaned and grabbed me, pushing me into the bed and rolling over until he was on top of me.

"Get off!" I protested weakly, laughing as he pretended to be innocent.

"I'm not letting you go that fast," he murmured to me, kissing the skin of my jaw in small sections, making his movements slow and torturous. His cursed lips moved down to my neck where he bit the fabric of the robe and began pulling, showing more and more of my pale skin.

"Brea," he whispered quietly against my flesh, his warm breath cascading over me. I arched into his arms and touch, unable to bear the emptiness that I felt where he didn't completely overwhelm me, touch me, overheat me.

"Breanna?" A soft voice called, and I instantly recognized it as Leliana. I shoved at Cullen's shoulders, the movement not making him move any further other than him picking himself up at his own will. His eyes met mine, pupils dilated and golden orbs wide. He held his finger to his lips, telling me silently to be quiet while he yanked a cotton shirt over his head. He lifted himself off of the bed and walked to the front of the tent, whispering to Leliana behind the curtain. His lip curled into a smile before he walked back to the bed, knee leaning against the thin mattress.

"We have to be out of here before the hour passes. I propose a strategic escape that involves us leaving at different times so that no one is suspicious of us..." He paused, tilting his head in bemusement, probably at my smiling face. "What's so funny?" I kneeled and slowly inched forward until I was directly in front of him, my palms now flat on his chest.

"I find it adorable that you're trying to make a plan so that no one suspects the two of us...together." He lifted an eyebrow.

"Adorable? Hmm, I'll show you adorable." He pounced on me like a cat, willing prey to the predator above me. I squealed in delight at having him touch me again, but I knew we would have to stop, for the sake of my sanity and our 'escape'.

"Cullen," I practically mewled as he kissed underneath my ear. "We need to go." He ignored my comment and proceeded forward. As he pressed himself back against my thighs, I could feel the heat of his arousal pressing into my core through the fabric of the silk. There was barely any resistance between our bodies and he growled, fingers kneading my hips, restlessly trying to drag me closer to him.

"Maker, you're so beautiful," he whispered into my ear before he bit the lobe slowly, laving the bite with a sweet tenderness that rocked me to my soul.

After kissing for a few moments on borrowed time, we both got dressed. Cullen finished adding his armor and fur in the tent while I stood behind the curtain, the fabric left a little untied. I gingerly pressed my fingertips to the wound at my side, a red stain on white cloth. As I was pulling on a new outfit that Sera had no doubt arranged, made of black leggings and a small red vest, my eyes wandered to the mirror in front of me. There I saw Cullen sitting on the bed, eyes planted firmly on the small gap of the fabric, gaze roaming over my body until I caught him, his skin turning a fierce shade of pink. I lowered my head and laughed, biting my lip in nervousness. I didn't yet know what was going on between us, whether it was a relationship or something casual, but I knew that his studying of me made my skin tingle.

I walked through the curtain and stood in front of the gallant Commander, blushing like a schoolboy in front of me. The contrast from the man at the war table and the young man in front of me made my head spin, a dizziness I wasn't quite used to. A small part of me wondered which he'd be in bed, but I shoved that thought to the back of my mind. That wasn't for now, nor was it for any time soon. Unwittingly I began blushing myself, the thought making my skin warm. He stood and as he raised himself from the bed, he let his hands roam over my sides, up my arms and to my shoulders.

"So...What now?" I tilted my head to the side, considering what answer I could give.

"Now we go and become the Inquisitor and Commander of the Inquisition."

"Is that it?" His face fell, eyes staring holes into the tips of his feet. If it was a sign he wanted more than something casual, I begged to see more, but I didn't know what any of this meant myself. I knew I wanted him, felt a pull to his presence that I hadn't felt with anyone before. But what did that mean?

"I don't know." It was an honest response but I knew it wasn't enough.

"Do you...Do you want that to be it?" He questioned, eyes seeking out an answer that I could swear was evident in the way I looked at him.

"No. Not at all." The tip of his mouth quirked into an adorable smile, and he slowly leaned down towards me. I met him halfway, his lips caressing mine in a gentle kiss.

"Me either. After your lead, Inquisitor."

I pulled aside the thick, woolen fabric of the tent, my eyes scanning the space around me carefully. I could sense Cullen emerge behind me, but he kept a distance. We were two different people now, and the Commanding Officer I knew so well as his guise fell into place. I sucked in a deep breath, as if it would console my nerves, and walked to the center of the camp where my company was gathered, Leliana and Josephine talking deeply with very rapid hand movements. Sera sulked at the side of a tent, leaning heavily so that she could pick underneath her nails with the tip of her dagger. Vivienne stood close to Dorian, who gave me a wicked smile and winked, emerald eyes sparkling a brilliant hue of green.

Cassandra was pacing until she saw me and rushed over, her eyes alight with a fire I didn't see often.

"That's it! I knew last night that it was him!" I squinted at her.

"The man I was talking to, he was a Seeker in training a few years ago. I spoke to him. Oh I should have known!" I raised my hand and tried to calm her down. I didn't know what was going on, but it felt like something obvious in a puzzle that I didn't even begin to understand.

"Slow down Cassandra, what are you saying?" I could sense her slowly relax herself, her aura giving way to something more...calm, but no less riotous.

"The man I was talking to last night was working with Corypheus. The men from the fight wasn't the Comte's men, no. They weren't even nobles at all! They were corrupted...Soldiers. Not Red Lyrium but not Blood Magic either, something different." I bowed my head and considered the options. It wasn't like the Comte was completely alone. No, we knew he wasn't, but to say that he could have been corrupted himself was an entirely different assumption. That anyone was being corrupted.

"Do we know what it is? Could it be like the Warden's Call?" Leliana piped up from behind Cassandra, her stride careful but brisk. She was cold, but she had begun to soften during her time in the Inquisition. I wondered if that was a good thing, especially with what we were dealing with.

"This is something new for Corypheus, if this is even him at all. He may be running scared after Adamant, but this doesn't seem to be to provoke fear. I believe he wants you for something, but it's not dead." I furrowed my eyebrows. All this time, after everything we had wasted and gone through, I knew he wanted me. I knew he wanted that mark, but I always thought he wanted me dead. Now was that story changing? Did he ever truly want me dead? My memories took me back to that moment at Haven, Corypheus hanging me like a doll by my neck. I couldn't imagine a scenario that didn't involve him killing me, or the other way around.

"Why? He told the Comte that he could kill me whatever way he liked." Leliana shook her head and pursed her lips, handing me a report that Josephine had handed her a few moments before. I skimmed over the words, but they made no sense.

"That was the missing link, Inquisitor. The Comte may have worked for Corypheus, but he had his own agenda. He hadn't been working for Corypheus originally. No, he'd been working for Duchess Florianne, who had been working for Corypheus. It seems they were...Intimate. When you killed her, he wanted a retaliation against the Inquisition, but more importantly, you." I shook my head.

"So what you are telling me is that the Comte trying to murder me wasn't Corypheus's plan, but his own? What would happen when Corypheus found out?"

"Love is blind, Inquisitor. It may have been he was willing to die for the sake of his love." Josephine's voice spoke, but she wasn't even looking at me. Her eyes were roaming over pages on her board, probably just one piece of evidence in many. I sighed and rubbed my hands together. It was one of those moments where I would rather be in Dorian's nook, an old book in my hand to comfort me and no one to judge and no one to ruin it. I suppose not all dreams are possible, nor are all evils easily avoided like that.

"Look, I say we go back to Skyhold and deal with this there. We're vulnerable here, and if Corypheus wants me, the best time to strike is when we're off guard. Josephine, when we get back to the fortress I want you to send a letter to Empress Celene. I request her presence at Skyhold by the end of the week." Josephine nodded her head solemnly. The task I was asking was no easy one, and I was sure she would have to pull some strings. Luckily enough, the Empress was still indebted to me for her life.

A spark of heat roiled through my body as Cullen nonchalantly pressed his palm to the small of my back. It was an endearing motion that none of the others saw, but I recognized it. I breathed in, slightly weary for what was ahead. So far it had been a mix of blood, horror and passion. How much worse could it get? I wasn't quite sure but I felt that somehow something was coming, and knowing it was coming for me only raised my guard higher. Too much was happening at once, a swirl of events and things occurring, too fast and obscure for me to pinpoint and effectively act on. All I knew was there were many things that I had to deal with going back to Skyhold. It seemed like only weeks ago I was a normal girl at Redcliffe, the only issue on my mind the persecution of my people and the food that I would eat. In reality it had been almost a year, and now I faced that for every member of my party, for every person in Ferelden and Orlais. People rested their beliefs in me, and I was beginning to believe their faith was heavily misplaced.


	7. Tremors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breanna is arriving back at Skyhold but some new issues are arising, as is a Dinner Date. Who knows what will happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this is a little late for when I usually post my stories, but I fell asleep as soon as I got home last night! Anyways, here's chapter seven! We're getting back to the thoughts and emotions rather than dialogue (sometimes I feel I get so wrapped up in dialogue I forget to add how our lovely Breanna is feeling) but there's plenty of feels in this one and lots more feels to come! Until summer comes the chapters will be a little shorter, but still good! PLEASEEEEEE comment and follow and favorite! Happiness blooms in my heart when you do! 3 :) Enjoy!

Tremors

 

Skyhold was a welcome view from the Chateau and knowing my bed and furniture would be close made my heart feel slightly more warm on the wintry breeze. On the way back to the tall, stone fortress, my mind wandered from thought to thought. I found myself wondering if I had never gone to the Conclave, if possibly none of this would have happened. The Breach wouldn't have formed in the sky, Corypheus wouldn't have sought out the Divine, wouldn't be seeking me out now. I knew it was foolish. Thoughts like that only lingered in the brains of those who lived in the past, but I no longer knew if I did live in the present. I couldn't stop seeing the faces of those we lost in Haven, or worst, those who didn't have faces to me, who were only names on a sheet of paper. A death list, the last remnants of the dead and the buried.

I shook my head to rid myself of the thought of it, but they kept coming, rushing back to me as if I hadn't banished them again and again. The voices were stronger, the feelings more ardent, the thoughts never ending. A splitting headache was begging to form in the back of my skull, a dull throb that hadn't ceased since we'd set off on our journey to Skyhold. A feeling that hadn't subsided since I had began working with Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana and Cullen. An ache that hadn't stopped strangling my heart and suffocating my lungs since my first kill, since the first rift I had closed. My fears had become more twisted, more dark than I ever could've imagined. My nightmares were now haunted by demons of envy, pride and desire, faces twisting and morphing to become a large fear.

I couldn't admit I no longer knew what I felt. Couldn't admit that while I was alone I racked with sobs that couldn't leave my chest because it was so painful not even my body could cope. A small piece of my heart remembered the Fear demon in the Fade, taunting me with the dead, my family. Or even at the Templar Stronghold, the Envy demon I had encountered had tricked my brain to believe so many different scenarios. I could still see myself holding the lengthy Templarian blade to Cullen's throat, the demon slicing across the expanse of skin only to reveal a red stream of horror. The thought still sickened me to my core, my heart still beat heavily at the memory. I had begun wondering if what I worked on with the Inquisition would once lead to something like that, and me being a mage, possession was always a risk and fear.

"Stop that," Dorian's voice became louder and so did the trot behind me. He appeared beside me, worn and tattered but handsome still.

"Stop what?" I said silently, my hand pushing a strand of hair behind my ear in fear that he could peer inside of my thoughts. He knew me well, I understood that, but some things were better left unknown in my head.

"That pining look you get whenever you think back. It's almost making me sad just looking at you." I huffed out a pathetic laugh.

"Am I that transparent?" He raised his eyebrows, asking if I didn't already know. I tried to keep my thoughts hidden, but I supposed that it wasn't working as well as I had originally thought.

"Maybe not to the others or your newfound plaything, but to me, yes. Have you forgotten that I'm your one and only plaything?" I laughed at that and the release in my chest felt welcome. It held a small dose of warmth and comfort.

"Bull would be offended, I think." The shock at seeing Dorian freaking Pavus blush was a sight to behold, and I relished in that. "Dorian! I never knew you could blush!" He snorted and gripped the reigns of his horse tighter.

"Why do you assume that I am the plaything? Could Iron Bull not be the plaything?" Now it was my turn to snort, the hilariousness of what he said gripping my sides with searing, burning laughter.

"Like Iron Bull could be the plaything of anyone or anything. Dragons fear him." Dorian muttered under his breath about playthings and dragons, but I trotted my horse closer to him so I could pat his back with my palm. I knew what it was like to be teased about someone, especially by Sera about Cullen. She couldn't put that one down even if I shoved a roof cookie in it. Almost like he could read my mind, he spoke.

"So how are you and the romanced, blonde puppy?" I quirked an eyebrow at him. Ugh, this was not going to go somewhere pleasing.

"One, he's not romanced, and two he's not a puppy." Dorian chuckled, the tips of his mustache crinkling up.

"Come on sweetheart, you have to admit that you have our dear Commander lovestruck. I wonder what happened in that tent of yours." His eyes mused, but I shut my mouth and pretended to stare in front of me. Dorian quickstepped with his horse and cut in front of me momentarily, making me pause and look at him.

"What? Nothing happened, okay. And he's not lovestruck. I don't...I don't know what he is, actually." I paused for a moment.

"How have you been lately, Dorian? What do you think of the new information about Corypheus?" Dorian waved his hand around in the air, his sass returning to the conversation as quick as a breath.

"Darling, if things like Corypheus and feelings bothered me, I wouldn't be working in the Inquisition." It wasn't the answer I was expecting, but it seemed no less Dorian. He always liked to play off how he was truly feeling. I realized then I did the same thing. I found it...Easier than talking about the truth.

"I know, but doesn't it get to you?" The smile on his face dimmed fractionally, his mind traveling to someplace I couldn't see.

"A lot of things happened. Many people died, lives lost in the cause. If I slip up...If I let myself slip up because I can't handle those things, what good am I?"

"Human."

Dorian snorted, his eyes glinting off the metal chest piece of his armor and the bright sun that reached down much closer in the mountains. "Human. Says the Elf. And that's not the Vint in me talking, either."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I know it sounds paradoxical, but despite that, I still feel. Its human to be sad and upset."

"What's inhuman is when you wear it on your sleeve. It's a bad tick you have, sweetheart. I'd have it fixed."

"What am I supposed to do, hide all my emotions like you do?" His head shot up at that, eyebrows raising. He was feigning his hurt, but then a stream of seriousness followed.

"I grew up in Tevinter. I was raised to play the Game. If you wear your heart on your sleeve, you're doomed from the beginning, kiddo. Love wasn't a strength, it was a weakness. To be squashed. It's awful, I know. But it has to be done." I shook my head and pushed against the leather of the saddle. My thighs burned from the horse and my side still ached from my wound, but I ignored it because I was faced with something I felt stronger.

"It doesn't have to be that way, Dorian. We can make it different." He smiled at me and shook his head too, gazing out into the sun and the impending fortress ahead of us. The way he regarded that statement was as if I was too naive to understand some grand importance. Like my ignorance was as large as Skyhold in all its towering glory.

"Civilization, Order and Chantry has tried that from the beginning of time, and will probably try 'til our end. But I doubt that it will ever truly exist. Love only exists in books and those rare people and moments you find. We probably won't ever see that love, but you, Brea, can. He's right there." Dorian tilted his head behind, and as I looked over my shoulder, I found Cullen watching me. He blushed as if I caught him doing something, hand rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks and ears flashing an adoring red. My heart began beating faster in my chest and I truly hoped Dorian didn't hear it or I would jump off the mountain right then and there. It surprised me how just days ago Cullen and I were a topic that made me blush because of it's incredulousness, and now I blushed because it was true. My heart had narrowed the past two days, focused solely on the way Cullen looked at me, that simmering gaze burning through my chest and thoughts.

"Right. Well, I suppose we'll just wait and find out." Dorian said, a hint of sourness in his voice.

* * *

 

The rare and delightful thing that I often found myself indulging in was the comfort that Blackwall's silence brought me. He wasn't a man of profound word or thought, but he was often thoughtful, something contradictory in itself. I stood in the stables of Skyhold, our recent return still heavy in the air. The party was met with blaring horns and a symphony of applause that I had become accustomed to over the many times I had returned to the fortress. I was sure whether I had succeeded or failed, they would still clap in my name. I shook my head at the thought, the absentminded people simply following the norm cascading over my vision.

I rubbed some of the matted hair from the maine of a beautiful speckled horse, it's coat a mix of white and pale beige. He was a Dun horse; a special breed with beautiful sleek black hair and blackened legs, a gradient effect following to give way to his soft tan tone. Blackwall stood next to me, pretty brown horse neighing at his touch.

"Heard you got banged up pretty bad. You alright?" I gave him a sidewards glance. I took him on many of my party missions, and I was sure he knew me better than to ask. "I know," he said quietly, "You just seem under the weather, is all."

I chuckled. "You think the Orlesians got my panties in a twist? It takes more liquor and swords for that to happen." Blackwall's face twisted into a wry smile.

"Who knows with those people." I could feel the dimple in my cheek crease, my heart lightening at the small banter between us. It was true that when I was left alone my thoughts began to wander, but having someone like Blackwall helped that small loneliness find a semblance of companionship. A pang of electricity shot up my spine and I became helplessly aware of my surroundings. Slowly I turned to see Cullen approaching, gloved fingers rubbing that spot on the back of his neck whenever he was nervous. Knowing that now I could feel him coming was a shock, and my heart began racing as he came closer. My horse guffawed in an animalistic manner behind me but I ignored her and walked a few steps to meet him in front of the stables. I took my gloves off methodically and smiled up at him.

He cleared his throat and shifted on his other leg, his nervousness something I found extraordinarily adorable. He was dressed in his normal Commander garb now, his fur coat draping over his shoulders and his belt and sword strung just a little loosely at his hip. He clanked as he maneuvered again, the metal of his armor making him sound clunky. I couldn't help but let a childish giggle escape my throat at his boyish charm.

"I–um...I wanted to give you this. I mean if you're busy...You–we don't have to," he handed me a small letter that was stamped and signed with his initials–CSR–Cullen Stanton Rutherford. A wave of confusion roiled through my body as I opened the small note, but as I read, a grin spread across my face.

_Dear Breanna,_

_Would you like to have dinner with me tonight in the Grand Hall?_

_Cullen_

He began to turn, as if he would leave, but I grabbed his elbow and brought him around.

"I would love to have dinner with you, Cullen." I reached up on my tippy toes and planted a sweet kiss on the stubble of his cheek, enjoying the flush that I brought across his skin. Knowing I had that kind of effect on him was a small weapon in my arsenal of Cullen tactical devices, and I planned on using it well. I didn't have many of them after all, and making him blush seemed to be a sign that he enjoyed whatever was happening. That or I made him awfully nervous, but I counted that as a good thing.

"You would? Really?" He coughed, moving his hand to the pommel of his sword. I bit my lip and moved closer to him, my fingers pulling him against me.

"Is that such a surprise?" He shook his head and a smirk began to play at his lips. After his nervousness came a hint of arrogance that wasn't a turn off, but sweetly charming.

"Hmm...Is it strange to say that I...missed your company?" I smiled and shook my head, turning around and walking back towards Blackwall in a seductive manner. I watched as he tried to hide the way he eyed my curves, golden eyes glinting mischievously.

"It's only been what? Five hours since I last saw you?" I said, slowly grazing the wood of the stable with the tips of my fingers. "Too long." I murmured. I turned around and he called out after me. "Dinner tonight then?" I nodded, not turning around. I let a small smile creep up my cheeks. All I knew was I couldn't wait until dinner.


	8. Swords and Shields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull and Brea think they can teach the recruits how true fighting's done, but there's more at work than what it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it took me a few extra days for this one! I had to start writing most of it today since my schedule has been beating me to a pulp, but I'm here now, and that's what counts! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying the story! I love making cute little scenes with Cullen and Brea, and there's one in here too! I'm trying to make it as sweet as possible before the main plot kicks in and starts making things more sad. But enough with that! Enjoy! Comment! Favorite! Love it! Pleaseee! <3!

Swords and Shields

_I panted heavily, my eyes wandering around the camp ground. There were two opponents. Two soldiers who were skilled and brutal with their hits, and now, I was cornered. My main tool in both defense and offense had been magic. My special abilities had proved useful as well, reading auras allowed me to see who was lying and who was not, and my power with mind manipulation had led to warriors bowing at my feet. But in a training ring? No. It was different. I was supposed to use tactical strategy, move my body a certain way, wield my sword with a certain precision with which I wasn't used to. The blade in my hand felt foreign to a staff in my palm, but I knew I needed the knowledge of both weapons._

_In a spur of the moment idea, I blasted the ground with fire magic and twirled around, my leg swinging up and taking my body with it to dealt a falling kick as I landed steadily on the ground. One more opponent left. His eyes darted to mine and his aura shimmered a dark red for a moment. I understood then he would attack quickly and I dodged, sliding to the right and kicking his shin. I felled the soldier but he rolled, grasping me underneath him. Just as I gathered my magic and the air around me became tighter with the thinness of the veil, the Commander called a stop. The soldier jumped on his feet with a gracefulness not often found in soldiers but before he could lend me a hand, Cullen took his place. I grasped his hand and found it firm and soft despite the callouses from wielding a sword for so long._

_"You spar well for a Mage," he spoke quietly as we walked back to the gates of Haven. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes._

_"And you're pretty nice for a Templar, or former one. Let's not worry about the rumors of our peoples." He tilted his head as if he didn't understand me or as if I was some new creature he'd never seen before._

_"As you wish, Herald." I gnawed at my bottom lip. I despised the term Herald, and I wished for him to call me Breanna, but I knew it wasn't for anything more than to hear my name on his lips. I smiled wistfully and walked away, casting a glance at him over my shoulder. He smiled and a dimple formed in his cheek. From that moment on I knew I cared for the Commander._

_—»— —»— —»—_

I was snapped out of my memory from a voice I knew too well. "Do you wish to show them how to fight like a true Inquisitioner?" Iron Bull leaned against one of the pillars of the stone houses that stood around the training ring of Skyhold.

"I'm afraid if we did that we'd scare the poor recruits." Bull let out a puff of air that was visible against the wintry air.

"What's a little fear to teach them how it's done?" I rolled my eyes at Bull's playful roughness, but either way I followed him when he walked towards the ring. I had been watching carefully, regarding the recruits with careful thought. I had also been watching Cullen, waving his hand angrily when a soldier's hit bounced off of a shield plate. "Do you see the big iron shield in front of your face or did you miss it? Strike the legs! Worry about disarming after he's finished blocking!" I laughed silently, wishing not to be caught watching our dear Commander, however I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

As Bull and I walked, each step of his accounting for five of mine, Cullen turned his head towards us.

"Iron Bull, Inquisitor. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He straightened and tried to act cordial, as if everyone didn't already know or assume that we were something more than our titles.

"We came to ask if perhaps Bull and I could have a try in the ring." Cullen's eyes widened at that, looking from Bull to me. He swallowed and nodded, still unsure.

"Bull, could you get the swords and shields?" The big lug had the nerve to bark out a laugh and tease me for the extra measure. He probably knew it would tick Cullen off.

"You think you can beat me with a sword, elfie? Why not go for what you know? Shame, seems I made you brazen." I shoved him towards the supply table and walked closer to Cullen.

"Inquisitor, eh?" I asked, my voice a little more aggravated than I had intended.

"A formality." I rolled my eyes at him as he watched Bull with nervous caution. People were edgy and unaware of Qunari alone which made them afraid, but a Ben-Hassrath like Iron Bull? Terrified. I was surprised that none of the recruits were running away at the sight of the big horned Qunari, but in the Inquisition, if you were valuable and with good intentions, we accepted you, regardless. I quietly mused if perhaps that was something we should change.

"You afraid of Bull, Commander?" Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and his eyes darted to mine. I couldn't tell if he was nervous because I was present or if it was because of my question, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

"No, I just don't think it is a wise course of action to fight against a Qunari Ben-Hassrath." I raised my eyebrows and feigned hurt at his words.

"Do you imply that I couldn't take Bull on in a fight?" He shook his head adamantly.

"No, not at all. It's just..." He sighed and palmed the pommel of his sword. "Why is it I cannot speak when you are near me?" He muttered under his breath, barely detectable but I easily heard him since I was so close. Bull came back with a broad axe and a double handed sword, and asked me to choose my weapon. I chose the sword since heavy bludgeoning objects wasn't exactly my forte nor was I sure I could actually pick up the damn thing. Bull swung the hilt over his shoulder and walked towards the ring. As a small gesture, I brushed my fingers against Cullen's side and gave him a smile, walking backwards towards the ring. It seemed like years since we had last talked by the barns, but it had only been a few hours and it occurred to me that both Cullen and I seemed to be passing the time so tonight would come quicker, yet it seemed to be taking forever.

"You ready, short-stick?" Bull hollered in the ring even though I was a few feet away, the two of us slowly circling each other like predators hunting prey. I groaned at one of the many nicknames he had given me, coming a near second at nicknaming to Varric. He gave it to me when we had been playing cards and we were choosing who went first in the game. The activities that took place during our time in the camps at night changed from Wicked Grace to Squares, and it even went so far as to Truth or Action. That one night however, whenever we pulled a stick to see who would go first, I pulled the shorter stick every time. Hence the name.

I swung the sword in the air, making pulls in the wing and swooshing noises to appear.

"Don't tell me you've gone all fancy on me too. Leave the fancy at Dorian's door." I laughed and made a quickstep, whacking my guarded elbow against the hilt of his axe.

"You know you love it." Bull chuffed and pulled the sword over his shoulder, slamming it down into the ground where I had been seconds before. I sheathed my sword and did a few flips backwards to gain some distance, but Bull charged forward and rammed his shoulder plate into my side during the second flip. Stars flashed in my eyes before I finally got out of it, and I was able to make a few maneuverable kicks and hits to his head. I puffed out, my lungs still recovering from the hit before I yelled and yanked the sword sideways, hitting him neatly in the side and swiping up, using the hilt of the sword to uppercut him across the ring. He smiled and wiped a tear of blood from his lip.

"Not a bad hit for you, short-stick." Bull pushed his axe into the ground signaling a break and walked towards me. I was slightly proud that there was a limp to his step.

"I think you're killing Cullen, very slowly, elfie." I turned around and was met with Cullen's wide eyes, pupils dilated in what seemed to be fear.

"Should you fight him? Show him that you're truly all soft underneath that big armor?" Bull gave a snort and pushed me, yanking his axe out of the ground and walking out of the ring. He clapped Cullen on the shoulder and said something to him, before pushing him in a step. Cullen and I met eyes, before he stepped into the ring and announced that Bull chose him to take his stead. The bastard said he was injured. I threw the greatsword into the dirt outside of the ring and took a smaller sword along with a shield from a recruit. Cullen took a step towards me, and then another, until he was standing right in front of me.

"We don't have to do this, you know." I smiled and my fingers twitched, wishing to touch the soft skin of his cheek, feel the rough stubble on my palm that I knew would raise goosebumps over my skin. I checked myself in place, though, and held my fist over my heart in sign that it was okay. Cullen reluctantly took the sword and switched hands, and we begun our dance. An old friend of mine from Redcliffe had once told me that killing was like a dance, something done with precision and accuracy as well as gracefulness, lest you die at the hand of your enemy.

As it turned out, our small dance only consisted of a few soft hits and shoves, but nothing to get my heart racing. I could see that he held back in fear of hurting me, but I wasn't about to let that happen. A crowd had formed around us, and most of the people were chanting my name, or, rather, Inquisitor. I wasn't sure if most of them even knew my true name. I felt fire blaze in my chest and heat my veins as I charged, knocking Cullen over and I didn't stop until I straddled his lap and was looking straight into his eyes.

"You're fighting me like a lover, Cullen. Fight me as if I'm a recruit." He paused, as if waiting for some lightning bolt to strike him from the sky and put him out of his misery, but instead he bucked me off of him and stood. It was then that I saw him resume his fighting stance, sword high, shield close to his chest. It was then that I would see the Cullen I adored to only witness before. He growled and batted his sword against mine until we met a stalemate and I pushed him forward with a strong shove. This time I proceeded in landing quick blows around his body, since being an elf helped me. It made me thinner and lankier, much easier to miss and a lot harder to fight. We fought until we both lost our swords and shields, and we were left with only our fists. It seemed to be a tie until he ran towards me and ducked, making us both collapse into the dirt. I sighed and tried to shove him off me, but it was of little use. His fingers caressed my sides, unbeknownst to the crowd, but without my consent a burst of giggles erupted from my chest.

"Brea! Are you...Ticklish?" He smiled and began his assault, tickling me right there amongst my people. Most of them laughed, like the bastards they were, and I was laughing too, but I tried with all my might to shove his dexterous hands away.

He lifted me up once again, similar to the time not so long ago within Haven, when Cullen and I weren't anything more than Commander and Herald. The thing was I felt the similar spark of heat crawl up my arm, and with it I shot an unpleased look at Cullen.

"You will never do that again to me." He had the nerve to smirk, the scoundrel. It seemed it was these small moments where there was no one else, just Cullen and I, that he let go of everything else and only saw me. Breanna Lavellan, the woman with the fierce and untamable heart, not the Inquisitor with the pointy staff and the stupid throne. We hadn't yet declared to anyone else what happened in that tent, and even Dorian didn't know the true extent of it, but in that moment, Cullen pulled me closer to his chest, curled me into his body and kissed my temple.

"If only that was true."


	9. More Than A Mess

Chapter 9 — More Than a Mess

I yawned, my arms raised above my head to reach into the air. I was beyond tired and the day seemed to be far longer than I had anticipated. We had only gotten to the Keep in the early morning and it was already sun down, the sky a beautiful pink and blue. Most days were clear in the mountains, but Leliana's scouts reported an incoming rain that would last for some time, rolling in from the Fallow Mire. It seemed ironic that the first rain at Skyhold in months would be the week Josephine arranged a meeting with Empress Celene, but rain nor shine would stop the growth of Corypheus. Not until I killed him. I pursed my lips at the sight in front of me, a bed with strewn dresses and outfits, all arranged in different forms to see what matched best, but none in my head was good enough for tonight's dinner.

Perhaps the reason why the day had been so long was because I was waiting for dinner to come so that I could spend time with Cullen, but even that had its limit. I was hesitant as to where I stood with him, and our relationship wasn't built off of anything more than a few stolen moments in between fighting and moving. Of course before the last few days there was that tug, the chemistry between us that inevitably drew us closer, even against our will, but now? Now I was a bunch of nerves and spastic brain cells, jumping from one place to the next. Cullen sent me on edge in a way I had never truly felt with anyone before. Sure I had had my fair share of experiences, boys and men alike, but none had set my skin aflame the way his touch did. Even just a simple look that he cast my way.

Another reason was the meeting with the Empress. That woman reminded me of everything I left behind with my father, the conniving, the backstabbing. The smile that made you wonder whether or not they could hold a knife to your throat. With the new information of Corypheus's plans, which was practically no information at all, all of us were afraid of what he planned. If he didn't want to kill me, and he didn't want me to live, what else could there be as an answer? A troubling thought of possession popped into my head, the memory of Stroud and Hawke at that keep in the desert crawling its way back into my mind. I shook my body to rid myself of my emotions and picked up a silver gown, set for a lithe body and small figure. Sera popped her head out of my closet and tapped her fingers against the wooden ladder.

"Go have a look, you. Need something for ya date with Cullen Wullen, no?" It was then I realized that while I was in my own mind, Sera had arranged several different outfits for me, all set in a rogues style. I scrunched my nose at it.

"Oh get that look off your face, Inquizzy-fancy-pants," she walked out of the closet and pulled a blue dress off the bed, pushing it against her small frame and dancing with it around the room as if it was a dancing partner. I laughed and held my stomach, my sides burning from the feeling.

"This ones not that bad, I'd say. Look, it sways." She threw the small blue fabric dress at me and skipped back to the closet, throwing another batch of clothes onto the bed. I threw the dress onto a stray pillow and threw my hands up in the air as well, giving up on it.

"This is madness. I don't even know why I'm trying to impress him." She raised an eyebrow at me.

"Other than the fact you want his sword in your sheathe? Hah!" She knocked her palm against the wall, laughing with the abrupt sound.

"His balls are probably wound so tight–" I cut her off with a wave of my hand.

"I think I get it, Sera." She made two circles with her hands, and then squished her fists together, and we both fell on top of the clothes in a fit of giggles. In our laughs, Sera grabbed a cloth white corset that was snug–but about the only pair I could actually breathe in– and a pair of forest green leggings to match my eyes.

"These," she nodded to me and pushed me off the bed and towards the closet. "Now change into your uppity pantaloons and get your arse to that dinner."

I stood in front of my mirror, and for the second time in only a mere few days, I was impressed with how I looked. My red hair flowed around my shoulders in beautiful waves, while my eyes seemed even more prominent in my features by my light skin and the flush of my cheeks, not to mention the leggings of the same color. My curves were accentuated with the flow of the fabric, but hugged it in all the right places. I bit my lip and looked at Sera from my mirror. She gave me a shit eating grin.

"Give 'em hell."

I walked confidently into the Main Hall where dinner was, but Cullen was no where in sight. Iron Bull, Varric and a group of my friends waved me over but instead of immediately coming to them, I paused. My heart was beating like a drum in my chest, and Maker, it was like I was a teenager again. Thoughts ran through my head, awful thoughts that made me second guess everything. Made me second guess the meaning of his words. Did he renege on tonight because he realized he doesn't care for me the way I care for him? Do I care for him? Is he afraid? Oh heavens. I walked towards my friends and Bull slapped me hard on the back.

"Heard about that little arrangement tonight." I inwardly groaned at the implication. It wasn't that I didn't want anyone knowing about us, quite the opposite, but...I didn't even know if there _was_ an us. I inhaled deeply and cast a shadowed glance over at Bull and the rest of my party.

"It's nothing. Really." I tried to sound confident, but I could hear the tones of sadness in my voice. I would normally roll my eyes at women who pined over men like this, but I couldn't help but feel upset that Cullen didn't come. Dorian peeked at me from over the end of his mug, giving me a _I know what you're really thinking_ look. I sighed again because I knew Dorian only wanted what was best for me, but sometimes I truly didn't want to hear what was best.

I grabbed a mug from the end of the table and raised it in the air, "To getting drunker than the gods tonight!" And I downed the rough drink in one gulp. I coughed after the mug hit the wooden table, but all my friends cheered around me and some, like Dorian and Varric, couldn't hold in their laughter. I may have to act like the Inquisitor all the time, but this wouldn't be the night. I would drink as much as I wanted and act the way I wanted, without the constrains wishing to force themselves upon me.

With that was five drinks and seven mugs later, and I wasn't sure I was able to walk. I wasn't really sure that I could even think, but I knew I was angry. Angry at a lot of stuff that I couldn't probably pronounce, but I tried. I shook my empty mug at Sera as she held onto her knee in front of me. All of us had moved into the tavern as dinner had become more of a drinking night than an eating night. My heart thudded powerfully in my chest and the back of my neck was damp with perspiration. My leggings had gotten ripped somehow, but I couldn't have cared. I was more than upset that Cullen had stood me up for dinner and I was especially upset that I didn't know why. Did he not like me? I put the lip of the mug to my mouth but I realized too late that there was nothing in there before Sera started stomping her feet and laughing like a maniac.

"I can't believe it! You're more shit-faced than a drunkard on holiday!" I scrunched my face up in probably the most petulant manner ever, but at this point I didn't really care much about anything. The door to the tavern swung open, the door slowly closing behind the strong, built frame of Cullen Rutherford who looked worse for wear. His eyes wearily scanned the room before landing on me, golden gaze sparking fierily. He walked forward and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked utterly sad and I couldn't help but feel my anger slip away from underneath me, the need to know what was wrong with him strong within my body. I leaned towards him and Bull howled at something Dorian said behind me.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to make dinner," he said and his voice was raspy. I felt the conviction to believe him deep in my stomach despite the hurting and the insecurity in my chest. My stance wavered and my vision blurred slightly, the draft that I had been drinking settling in my stomach as well. Cullen grasped me in his hands, massaging my shoulders in a comforting and consoling manner. "You need to go to your quarters before you fall, you've had a long night. Come on." He wrapped my arm around his middle since he was still taller than me and my arm would have to bend awkwardly. I held onto him awkwardly as he pulled me out of the tavern, all eyes watching me wearily.

"I thought you didn't want to see me," I muttered as we neared the door to my room in the dining hall. His eyebrows scrunched together in his forehead in an adorable manner.

"Why would you think that?" He paused and then a look of guilt washed over his face and his head bowed. "I'm sorry I didn't let you know sooner that I couldn't come...Something just came up." My eyes narrowed at him but he didn't notice, simply pushing me next to the wall while he opened the door. I inhaled slowly, waiting for him to take me up to my chambers, but he was hesitating.

"What's wrong?" I asked, and he _blushed_.

"These–th–this is your room. Your bedroom." He stuttered, nervous, but the liquor made me bold and instead of telling him he could come into the room, I pulled him inside the doorway, shut the door with my foot and kissed him. He was unsure, I could feel as my hands roamed his shoulders, the muscles bunching tight with caution and then releasing slowly as I continued my assault. My lips brushed against his and finally he responded, his hands pushing into the locks of my red hair. I caressed the stubble on his cheek, the course hair rubbing against my face as I moaned from the pleasure of our kiss. He pulled away from me, his eyes darting around.

"This isn't right. I'm not going to take advantage of you like this. You're drunk." I pouted at him, and he stared at me, my lips–I knew he wanted me and it was wrong of me to tempt him, especially when he was truly being sweet. He was trying to take the moral high ground and it made me want him more. I sighed when he didn't relent. I looked down at my hands and wrung them together, waiting for him to do something, say something, anything to remove the silence that stood between us like a brick wall. Finally he moved forward, a step at a time, his fingers brushing the wayward strands of my hair out of my face. The calloused tips of his fingers trailed from my cheekbone down to my chin, lifting my face up to meet his eyes. Their honey depths were soft, and kind and warm.

"I'm sorry," I murmured and tried to look away again. "I just...I'm insecure and I don't know what to think. Especially with tonight. But I thank you for treating me kindly and respecting me enough to not want to take advantage of me. No matter how much I want this." I bit my lip nervously. I wasn't good with words either, it seemed, no matter how much I could pretend to be silver tongued around diplomats and Orlesians, my words were lost to Cullen. And the same seemed for him. He swallowed hard and just looked up the stairs to where the candles faintly glowed, my warm bed awaiting me. He held out his elbow like he did when we were at Chateau de Leon, escorting me to the ball. Instead this time he was escorting a drunken me to my bedroom so I didn't faint on the steps and or puke somewhere. Because I did feel nauseous.

We walked at a slow pace, just steps away from my small safe haven and place that I called home. My body warmed as I realized that this place, Skyhold and even Haven had felt like my home not because of the location but because of the love of my small family. I had met so many people that looked up to me, but none of them compared to those I held dearest to me here; those who watched over me and protected me like I did for them. If that wasn't a home and a family then I couldn't even think what one would look like. Cullen sat me down as I contemplated this, handing me a glass of water that had been left on a tray by my bedside, obviously placed by one of the servants. I took a sip and he set down the cup.

"Here," gently he pushed me down on the bed and pulled the linen sheets up to my shoulders, his hands gliding up my side and sending tingling sparks through me. I yawned sleepily and my eyes suddenly felt very heavy. He turned to leave but I shifted on the bed and grasped his hand.

"Please don't leave. I–" I stopped myself, realizing how foolish I sounded, but I felt the sudden fear of being alone dragging its claws up my spine and into my head. I didn't want to be left alone like this. "Please stay," I whispered in a soft voice. He thought it over for a moment, his golden eyes following the trail of my body underneath the sheet until they rested on my own eyes. He nodded his head and sat down on the bed, taking off his chest plate, furs and armored shoulder plates. After a few seconds of indecision he laid down on his back until finally he wrapped an arm around my middle and my back was pressed firmly against his strong chest. He nuzzled the back of my neck and breathed out a stuttered breath.

"Go to sleep, Brea." A short while later I took his advice, the steady beat of his heart behind me, the warmth his body emanated, the strength and comfort his body offered me finally led me to rest in his arms.

 


	10. The Confines of Secrecy

Chapter 10-The Confines of Secrecy

My eyes fluttered open, the bright light of the sun streaming in through the curtains and veils of my rooms making fiery pain burst behind my eyes. I shut them as quickly as I had opened them, groaning slightly as I maneuvered myself against the beams of light cascading in my room. I quietly reminded myself never to drink again since it seemed like I was a light weight and the awful pounding in my head and the throbbing behind my eyes told me my body agreed. I peeked out of the corner of my eye at the stairs leading out of my bed chambers since somehow I had managed to move to the entirely opposite corner of the bed, but Cullen was nowhere in sight. I pushed myself up to turn but my body wavered slightly and I heard the rustle of papers from behind me. I peeked again and found Cullen sitting on the floor, his normal armor still not on and instead he was just wearing a pair of breeches and a medium sized beige tunic. His honey eyes looked back at me from over the top of one of the books he was reading and he set it down on a pile next to him. He smiled sheepishly at me and I felt my heart clench in my chest.

"Good morning," he murmured, standing and stretching his arms above his head. His muscles tightened and released and I blushed slightly, realizing he probably knew that I was watching him.

"What is so good about this morning?" I questioned, turning over and stuffing my face into a pillow, the spinning in my head refusing to cease.

"Well, you're alive and I'm alive," I felt him kneel on the bed, his weight letting me know where he was. I felt his fingers caress my side and trail up as he pushed hair out of my face. "And since we're both alive, how about we live life together? Come on, wake up, we have work to do." I shot him a pissed off look, deciding this was not one of the days I wanted to be the inquisitor. I wanted to be a normal girl with a normal life. I was surprised that Cullen had even stayed with me considering what a work freak he was. The thoughts in my brain that were all fuzzy began to quiet down as I realized that probably meant he'd rather spend most of his time with me, and I broke out into a smile that was muffled by the pillow.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked, turning over so that I could look at him before I asked. His features became perplexed but he nodded in encouragement.

"Why didn't you come last night? To dinner I mean." He looked down, rolling over so that he laid on his back, his eyes staring at the ceiling.

"I had a meeting to go to."

"A meeting? With who? There wasn't a council at the the War Table." His eyes darted to mine and then he looked back at the top of the room. He rubbed the space between his eyes and his forehead as if he had a headache growing there.

"I met with Cassandra. We had some things to...Discuss." He inhaled shakily and that's when I began to realize there was more to this than what he was telling me, and if it was in my walls, I wanted to know what it was.

"Was it information? Should we have a council for it?" Now I know I'm not the best at reading people without my strange gift of aura sensing, and most times when I read people I have the innate sense that I'm wrong, but when Cullen stood up and shook his hands at me, panic in his eyes, I felt dread rise in my chest and curiosity begin to gnaw at my thoughts.

"No no no, nothing like that. It was just some things." He was trying to play it off like it didn't matter, yet last night he had said it was important. I cocked my head at him. _Okay, that's obviously not going to work_ , I mused silently. I pulled my legs to the edge of the bed and let them dangle for a few moments before letting them sit on sturdy ground. I took his large, calloused and tan hands within mine, rubbing his palms in my own in what I hoped was a comforting manner.

"Hey, look. I won't ask about it anymore," He exhaled a relieved sigh. "But I'm going to tell you that you can trust me, with anything. I'm not only the Inquisitor, and I'm not only Brea...I..." I choked on my words, realizing I didn't exactly know what I was to him, or what I was to anyone, as a matter of fact. I couldn't say I was his friend because I felt it was quite obvious I wasn't, but I couldn't exactly say we were a couple either. We were paired people which acted out in fits of passion and emotion, who took comfort in each other. I trembled with that thought and tried to pick up where I left off.

"I hope you know that I'm more than that, especially for you." I swallowed hard, my eyes looking away from his for the first time. He kneeled in front of me and took my face in his hands, my eyes locking on his. They were soft and sad, filled with words that he couldn't tell me. I could feel he wanted to–sense it from his confused aura, but he still restrained himself. Silently I wondered if there wasn't something going on with the Inquisition, or even Cassandra, but possibly my own Commander. My Cullen.

"I know." He whispered. "I know." He leaned forward and I let my eyes fall closed, his lips stroking against my own slowly at first. After a few movements his kisses became more impassioned–more bold. He moved forward, his arms secured on either side of my body as he pushed above me and my hands automatically secured themselves around his neck. I pulled him closer to me, trying to comfort him with my body in ways that my words obviously couldn't. One of his hands left the side of my body and held onto my hip for balance. He pushed himself up and we both breathed harshly before he stood up and carefully pulled me with him.

"We have work to do," he muttered, grabbing his furs and draping them around his shoulders. He reached for his armor but I took it instead and gave him a firm look.

"Let me." His eyes narrowed in on me as I circled around him and put the chest plate on, golden eyes watching my every movement like a lion. I blinked up at him innocently.

"I do this every day, you realize." I giggled as I fumbled with one of the straps and he pressed me against him and left a soft kiss on my forehead.

"I wanted to try," I pouted at him and he grumbled, allowing me to put on the rest of his armor. He looked at the mirror and a horrified look passed over his features.

"Hey–it's not that bad!" I groused, looking in my closet for my inquisitor attire. The pounding in my head was still present but I was happier now–despite the strange way he was acting and the obvious secret he was keeping from me.

"No it's not that. It's my hair." I laughed and poked my head from around the corner as I shimmied into the tight leggings of my inquisitor pants.

"So you do style your hair! I win the bet!" He gave be a hard stare from the mirror as he tried to run his fingers through the soft, blonde curls of his hair.

"Come here," I called as I finished the last button on my vest, the silver latches secured tightly around my chest and stomach. Shoulders hunched and gait slow, he moved into my bathroom and stood in front of me. Now _he_ was the one pouting at _me_. I chuckled at him and kissed the side of his mouth before I handed him some hair gel. He smiled a brilliant, white toothed smile and went to fixing his hair in another one of my smaller mirrors. Before he left I handed him a small file case that I told him he could go to Leliana so that it gave him a reason for being in my chambers and I kissed him on the cheek, his stubble scratching my lips. He left first and then I left a few minutes after him, our departures timed apart so that it seemed less suspicious. I wanted to shout my feelings for him into the air, but if word spread that the Commander of the Inquisition and the Inquisitor were sharing a bedchamber, no matter what we were doing, word would spread through all of Thedas. I shook my head as I imagined all the rumors that they would make. My favorite were the pregnancy rumors that would arise. Maker, I already had pregnancy rumors swirling around and I wasn't even intimate with anyone.

But I had a plan. It wasn't a big plan and it would hopefully be answered very soon, but I couldn't let something eat at Cullen and not figure out what it was at least. I walked down the steps of the dining hall and out of the Skyhold castle. My steps were lighter than usual but still heavy, my hangover not completely gone. My feet took me towards Cassandra's little area of dummies where she took out her anger and practiced at the same time. I noticed the way she eyed me when I picked up a sword and began to train next to her, my hits precise and well distributed.

"Good morning, Cassandra." I said, a blow landing on the neck of my cloth opponent. She paused and then took another swing, her longsword chopping off the head of the wooden training doll. Cassandra moved to the next one.

"Good morning to you as well, Inquisitor. Is there a reason that you grace me this morning with your lovely presence?" I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, as she usually was. Occasionally she would be in a snappy mood, but that was only if Varric was around or if she had ran out of cloth dolls to practice on. 

“I heard last night you had a meeting with the Commander.” _Silence_. I peeked around the doll at her, and she seemed to be contemplating her next move against the dummy, her sword held against the space where the shoulder would have met the neck of her opponent. 

“Yes, I did.” There was a certain amount of hesitancy in her voice that immediately sent me on edge. “We had some business to discuss.” I tilted my head towards her, my priorities no longer on the dummy. My eyes focused on her, the rigidness of her posture, the hard hits of her sword. 

“And Cullen spoke of the same business, but I have yet to hear what it is.” She dropped her sword and stood against me, obviously a dominance pose. I had a few inches of height over her, her short black hair blowing softly on the wind as she stared me down with her hazel eyes. 

“You and I have nothing to discuss. The matter is all our Commanders, and he should be the one to tell you what we discussed last night.” She smirked at me and returned to her dummy. “Of course, that is if he truly trusts you.” She muttered against the wind, loud enough so she knew I would hear. The blow hit straight were my confusion had buried itself, striking a hit against my heart. 

* * *

 

He hadn’t tried to contact me for the rest of the day, my scouts telling me that he was preoccupied with papers and reports, the constant flow of people in his office never ending. I sat on my bed, my fingers playing with the fine lace edging of my pillow, contemplating what Cullen was keeping from me. He was defensive about it, and tried to feign nonchalance at my questioning. My memories replayed this morning in fine detail, and I reminded myself that he had been reading before I had woken up. What book? I rose to my feet, stretching my tired limbs as I peered at the pile of books by my desk and floor. 

I fingered the spiral of one of the books, as the title came into view. _The Long Term Effects of Sustained Lyrium Dosages to Templars._ I cocked my head at the name, all of my thoughts conjuring the only thing he would have to keep away from me. Lyrium addiction. But why go to Cassandra? I wondered helplessly, the words I wanted to speak dying in my throat and my thoughts ceasing to flow. He was a Templar. What happened when he stopped taking his drafts of lyrium? I had never guessed if that was a problem, automatically assuming that he was fine, normal even. I realized nothing about our situation was normal, and I had been a fool to assume the lack of lyrium supply wouldn’t effect him. An insidious voice inside of my mind told me it was due to my Mage history, but I quickly pushed that voice aside. 

I heard the soft steps of a guest and I dropped the leather, spiral bound tome with a hard thud, stepping around the pile of books in the most guilty fashion. Blonde curls appeared from the top step as golden eyes appeared and the crinkle of a smile. I bit my lip, my eyes traveling over his broad, muscled shoulders and lithe, graceful body. 

“Enjoying the view, Inquisitor?” I stuck my tongue out at him, and he rushed forward, grasping me in his arms in a flurry of nightgown and metal, his face buried deeply in my neck.

“I missed you, Brea.” I chuckled. 

“It’s only been a day.” He shook his head at me, nuzzling my cheek. 

“Far too long for me.” In that moment of happiness, I completely forgot about Cullen’s secret, but I decided I wouldn’t prod at it like I had promised him, although it nagged annoyingly at my mind.

We laid silent for some time, my cheek resting against his shoulder, my hand flat on his chest. It was intimate and yet sweet, nothing sexual but nothing mundane either. I sighed and pushed my head back into the pillow, pushing myself away from him. I couldn’t take it, the knowledge that he was keeping something from me. It was fear and jealousy in its purest forms, eating away at my gut and my thoughts like a writhing demon. I would have rather faced a demon than this own personal hell that I was putting myself through, the notion that I was unworthy of his trust like Cassandra’s words spiraling in my head like a never ending symphony of hate and distrust. 

“Brea?” I burrowed my face into the pillow, a single tear meandering itself down my cheek and staining the plush cover. Did he really not trust me? I had given him no reason to, and yet I felt like there were more than a million. What if what I felt...Was just that. What I felt. Maybe Cullen felt nothing at all and he just didn’t want to anger his higher up. I cursed myself for having the same thoughts as yesterday when I was drunk. My mind was a cacophonous riot in my head that wouldn’t cease fighting, blow after blow after blow to my psyche that was driving me mad. 

“Fade,” I shuddered and I felt Cullen wrap himself against me, his strong, warm body pressing against mine. More comforting than any foe, yet I still felt the fear in the back of my mind. 

“I’m going to go to my chambers.” He whispered against the side of my head, the soft words crushing me. Instead of showing the defeat I felt in my heart, I turned towards him and gave him a weak smile. 

“Good evening, Cullen.” His eyebrows pulled over his honey golden eyes full with sorrow. 

“Good evening.” 


End file.
